


NaNoWriMo 2017 - Boyf riends

by skyjoos



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Cinderella, Alternate Universe - Doki Doki Literature Club, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, BDSM, Begging, Bondage, Bottom Michael, Canon, Doki Doki Literature Club! Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gangbang, Ghosts, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Imaginary Friends, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Kidnapping, Lingerie, M/M, MC!Christine, Making Out, Mental Health Issues, Monika!Jeremy, Natsuki!Jake, Nightmares, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranoia, Pet Play, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Rope Bondage, S&M, Sayori!Rich, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Transgender!Jeremy, Transphobia, Underage Drinking, Underage Nudes, Yandere Rich, Yuri!Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-01-28 04:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 45,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyjoos/pseuds/skyjoos
Summary: A NaNoWriMo work for the Boyf riends. I updated every day for the entire month of November and wrote prompts commentors gave me. This work has been completed.





	1. Day One - Begging/Orgasm Control

It feels like it’s been _years_ since Jeremy’s last jerked off. His dick has been in this painful state of constant arousal with no relief. And it fucking _sucks_. Maybe if he’d just listened to Michael all those days ago, he wouldn’t have been punished for so long. Jeremy wants to bang his head on his desk to rid himself of the forever lingering need to be fucked. He instead hides his head in his arms, cardigan wrapping his entire head in fabric, and screams in sheer agony. He would give anything to be fucked right now. Hopefully, by Michael, the tormentor who placed the rule on him.

All for _one_ small tease. Michael hated when Jeremy teased him, especially in public. And nearly two weeks ago, Jeremy had done just that. He and his boyfriend were sitting in a crowded café “studying” for the upcoming finals. The two easily got away with sweet kisses without being harassed. Michael was right, they are cooler in college. No one makes fun of them for being super gay for each other anymore, even when they’re being very showy about it. Like that day.

Jeremy purposely was fucking with Michael. Small touches in  places he knows he shouldn’t touch, kisses that lasted too long yet were also too short, and words too dirty to say louder than a whisper. It could’ve just been a man’s sex drive, but Jeremy knew it was more than that. He wanted people to see him and his boyfriend be so overly sexual. He wanted them to see that he was a bit of a whore – only when it came to Michael, though. He loved the way some people caught on, they would stare for too long, figure it out and awkwardly look away. Others wouldn’t mind until Jeremy eyed them down, practically begging for them to see the show he and Michael were performing.

Jeremy’s hand wrapped around Michael’s crotch, then he slowly squeezed. All while looking the stranger right in the eyes. They turned away in embarrassment and disgust. But God, it was the hottest thing to Jeremy. He didn’t know he had an exhibition kink until the week prior, while watching some dude in porn get his face creamed on by over two dozen men in a crowded bar. It was incredibly hot and inspired Jeremy to ruthlessly tease Michael in the café.

Despite the adventure being downright ecstasy to Jeremy, Michael wasn’t too happy once the pair made it back to their dorm. He kept his calm on the bus and the in the dormitory halls, but once their dorm door was closed, he let his humiliated anger spill.

“You fucking _slut_ ,” Michael growled.

Ah, Jeremy’s favorite word and by far his favorite nickname. Usually, hearing the name meant he was about to be fucked by Michael. Thank God, because his pants were already starting to form a wet spot. He couldn’t help himself, seeing Michael so helpless in that café made his mind go to the furthest depths of sexuality and desire. Jeremy smiled at the compliment and wiggled his hips to show he appreciated the mock. But Michael stood his ground.

“I bet you want me to fuck you right now, huh?” Michael asked.

Jeremy didn’t have to answer, all he had to do was tilt his head the right way and show his best “fuck me” glare. A useful face that always had Michael melting.

“Well, you’re shit out of luck. Because you’re not coming. Not tonight or tomorrow or, Hell, not even next week!”

“What?” Jeremy gasped.

He wasn’t expecting that, surely this was Michael’s way of degrading dirty talk. But something in the way Michael’s eyes gleamed and his brows furrowed made Jeremy suspect otherwise.

“Wait, you’re not … Serious. Right?”

“Actually,” Michael glared, “I am. You’re not allowed to come until the eighteenth. That’s a whole fourteen days of no touching yourself, humping, rubbing, being fucked or getting sucked by me. Understand?”

Jeremy was terrified but delighted all at once. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to cry or moan and the blurred headspace was so hot to him. He nodded and smiled wide.

“Challenge accepted.”

“Argh, holy fuck. I hate myself!” Jeremy now yells.

Thinking of that night makes his dick throb harder than ever and knowing he still has another hour until he can masturbate is torture. The God damned man is making him wait to the _hour_ to be fucked. But even then, he has to wait until Michael gets back. He knows Michael expects him to beg for it. And God, at this point Jeremy would do anything for someone, _anyone_ to fuck him.

Its 11:14 pm. Michael Mell, Jeremy’s roommate, best friend, and boyfriend walks in back from his shift at Walgreens. Michael throws the boy a questioning look. It takes him to a moment to remember his orders from two weeks prior. He laughs at Jeremy’s discomfort, gesturing to the large strain he can see in his pants.

“Jesus, Miah. You really are a horny bitch,” Michael laughs.

Jeremy throws his head back, pain and humiliation covers his face.

“No fucking duh! I’ve been hard for the past three hours, how can I not be a little aroused?” Jeremy says sarcastically.

“Well, you still have a good 45 minutes until you can come. I’m sure you’ll make it.”

Michael situates himself on Jeremy’s bed, the shitty dormitory mattress folds under his weight. Jeremy sighs and sits next to Michael, grabbing two controllers on the way to the bed. It’s nice having a TV and a game system in the dorm. But, it makes their room a hotspot for losers asking if they can tape a rerun of American Horror Story or play a round of CoD. Jeremy tends to treat the TV like a treasure though, considering it’s not really his. It’s Michaels’, back from his room at his parents’ house. But he’s happy Michael decided to bring it with them to college. He’s even gladder that the game is giving him a break from the constant throbbing in his pants.

As the two mash buttons while staring at the almost hypnotic television screen, Jeremy can feel the tension grow heavier by the second. He catches Michael sneak glances his way during a cut scene, he sees the strained veins in Michael’s neck. Holy fuck, he _really_ wants to see Michael’s veiny cock, the lines so ridged and refined. He wants to suck along the length of his boyfriend and bask in the glory of how his tip matches his perfectly plump lips. He wants to slide his tongue across it, sucking once he reaches the top of the –

“Jeremy,” Michaels breathes, “It’s twelve.”

Jeremy glances at the clock. He’s right, it’s exactly twelve on the dot. Before Jeremy can process it, he’s on the floor. He jumps to the floor, knelling before his boyfriend of ten months.

“M-Michael. Please. Fuck, just fuck me. I don’t care where, as long as I can finally fucking come,” Jeremy moans.

Michael brings his tongue to his teeth, creating the ‘tsk’ sound. He shake his head, smiling at the sudden begging.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Jeremy.”

Jeremy wants to cry, how else should he beg? He goes for it, leaning forward with his sunken eyes.

“God, babe. I need you. I need you to fuck me, really _really_ hard.”

“Be descriptive Jeremy, I’m not sure I understand you properly.”

Jeremy lets out a cry, tears well up in his eyes. Why won’t he just let him be fucked? At least let him masturbate! Jeremy thinks back to the past two weeks. The times Michael would tease him nearly over the edge, only to leave him high and dry for another few days. The tears make their way past his lids, Jeremy cries out to Michael.

“I want y-you inside of me! I want you to ram it inside of me so hard, I’ll cry and wake the entire dormitory. I want to be fucked so hard by your cock that I won’t be able to walk for the next week. I need everything all at once, _right now_. P-please?”

Michael is shocked by the sudden outburst off tears from his boyfriend. He leans down to cup his face, whipping tears off with the other hand.

“Of course, baby. Get up here and strip. Don’t make me wait.”

Jeremy looks so relieved. He nods and climbs on top of the bed, swiftly pulling off both his pants and briefs. He sits on the bed, eyes pleading to be fucked. Michael pets the boy’s head, Jeremy leans into the touch. Michael smiles, knowing full well the fun they’ll be having tonight.


	2. Day Two - Tying Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was given by a guest account, 'too ashamed to comment with actual account'. Thanks for the idea!

Jeremy scooted back against the bedframe as well as he could, given the restrictions. He was tied in such a position that he showed every part of his body, all of it splayed out for the boy above him. Michael could only admire his handiwork as his boyfriend below was writhing from the harsh rope. Jeremy’s arms were tied behind his back and his legs were tied to his thighs, making it impossible to stand. Each rope that attached to Jeremy’s knee was tied to the bedframe which showed Michael every treasured part a boy is supposed to keep private.

The rope binding him was laced over twice, ensuring he wouldn’t be moving much without Michael’s help. He tried moving, testing the restraints he’s placed in. Michael can’t help but laugh at his boyfriend’s futile attempts at moving.

“You look so cute like this, babe,” Michael said.

“I feel … helpless. Like anything could happen right now, and I wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it,” Jeremy responded.

Michael leaned towards him, so close that his jeans made contact with Jeremy’s erect tip. The boy below moaned, but stifled it by biting his lip. They were so close now, Jeremy even felt the breath exhaling from Michael fall on to his exposed skin. It warmed him, but also terrified him in the most exhilarating ways.

“Hold on, Jer.”

Michael leaves the bed and walks across the room to fetch something from a drawer. Jeremy’s not too concerned about it though, as he has other things to worry about. Like the solid formation his dick is in. And how he desperately needs it to be taken care of. Michael returns to the bed, but before Jeremy can process what he’s brought, Michael wraps Jeremy’s head in the cloth. It blocks out the light and makes it impossible for Jeremy to see anything.

“Ta-da,” Michael exclaims.

Jeremy blushed at the cheesy remark made by his boyfriend. Michael chuckles awkwardly as he returns to the bed. He watches as Jeremy considers his new predicament. He didn’t want things to be too much for Jeremy. It’s already bad enough they’re totally new to this, to force Jeremy into something he’s not entirely ready for would only make it worse.

“I’m ready, Michael. I wanna … do it like this ...,” Jeremy admitted.

Michael nods and moves to grab Jeremy’s hips, pulling him towards him. The ropes pull on Jeremy’s skin as Michael pulls. Jeremy gasps in pain, his voice hitching to an upper octave.

“S-sorry!” Michael said.

Jeremy nods and lets Michael reposition him to a more comfortable position. Michael pulls his jeans down far enough for his member to hang freely. He’s already half aroused just by the sight of Jeremy, with his spread legs and heavenly face. He comes towards Jeremy instead of pulling on him. Both boys’ skin makes contact. Michael hears a whimper from below.

“Um, light?”

Jeremy just nods, forgetting he needs to speak in order for this to continue.

“G-green,” he responded.

Michael grabs his member with Jeremy’s permission and lines it up to the boy’s exposed hole. He can already feel heat rising to his dick, making it more and more firm by the second. He slowly pushes in, thanking God he remembered to finger Jeremy with lube only ten minutes prior. Jeremy moans loudly, hips helping Michael push it in the rest of the way. Michael starts a slow yet steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of Jeremy.

The feeling of being so helpless and controlled is incredibly intoxicating to Jeremy. He can’t seem to find words as Michael continues to fuck him. He only moans and whimpers with delight at each thrust. After a few moments, Michael hits Jeremy’s prostate, causing him to outright /scream/ in ecstasy.

“Maybe I should’ve gagged you, too?” Michael laughed.

Jeremy blushed again at the almost dirty talk. Was it dirty talk? Is all talk dirty during sex? Jeremy tried to find something to respond with, something to sound witty or seducing. But before he can respond, Michael hits his prostate again. He started to quicken his pace, grunting with each thrust.

It’s only matter of time before Michael comes inside of Jeremy, his hips shuddering. Jeremy cries out soon, come smearing on his stomach. Michael pulls out of his boyfriend and is quick to grab a towel behind the bed. He helps Jeremy clean his come off him, Jeremy leans into the restraints as fatigue catches up with him. After a few minutes, Michael finally rids Jeremy of the rope. It left indents on his skin.

Once Jeremy is free from the restraints, he stares at the indents that mark his skin.

“Pretty …,” Jeremy stated.

“Yeah, just like you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Thank you to all who commented! I love getting comments on my works and I thought an interactive fic would be fun for the audience. I simply could not choose between yesterday's comments, I loved them all so much! But I do plan on using Salemq_VanillaTwilight, Kealpos, and anxiously_waiting's prompts soon since they were all so good! But if you have any other ideas: Please comment below! Until tomorrow, Sky.


	3. Day Three - Gangbang Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the lovely Nymm_at_Night. Thank you for the idea! I loved it so much, I've decided to extend it to another day. However, I won't be extending it tomorrow but rather a day later in the month.

“What?” Michael asked.

Was Jeremy crazy or stupid? Probably both, but to be sure, Michael asked again. He couldn’t possibly have asked that right?

“I want to be fucked by all of our friends, I want to be tossed around like an absolute _whore_ for my birthday,” Jeremy responded.

Michael knew Jeremy was a kinky son of a bitch. Jeremy was the one who introduced him to the world of BDSM, including subs and doms, bondage, and various other kinks. At first, Michael was hesitant. This new world Jeremy had shown him was tempting yet incredibly dangerous in his eyes. It was Jeremy who slowly coerced Michael into trying it with him. Small things at first. Like handcuffs and blindfolds. The simple restraints slowly escalated to whips and wax. Michael was so scared of hurting Jeremy in the beginning, but seeing Jeremy get so turned on by it made Michael come to realize how amazing it is. To hold total control over a person is one of the most intoxicating and thrilling sexual acts. Although Michael is usually the one dominating, Jeremy is the one who pushes for certain scenes. He’s demanding, but adorably demanding at that.

But a literal _gangbang_? Jesus Christ.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Jer. You sure … you really want this?”

“Michael Mell, my loving boyfriend and best friend, I have never been sure of anything in my entire life. I want to be _destroyed_ next week. I want to look back on my 20 th birthday and not remember anything but pain and pleasure. Got it?” Jeremy stated.

“Anything for you, babe,” Michael said.

 _Who would allow their boyfriend to get brutally gangbanged by a bunch of men on his birthday?_ Michael Mell thought as he paced the living room the next day. Jeremy’s birthday was only 5 more days away, leaving Michael with little to no time to come up with a plan. He had already created a group chat, appropriately naming it ‘Who wants to help me fuck Jeremy for his Bday?’ The first message he sent was as follows:

**Okay, yea. I kno this is weird, u guys. But if ur already uninterested in it, just leave the group. But basically, Jeremy wants a freak orgy for his birthday party. Im asking any guys interested in coming over for a consensual, kinky, fun time with Jer and me for his birthday, this Saturday.**

The first to respond is – unsurprisingly - Rich Gorganski.

**Sounds fun! :D But when r we meetin? Ur guys’ place?**

Shit, Michael didn’t think of that. Would it be safer to do it at the apartment? Wait, no. What if they’re so long, they disturb the neighbors? Would they be loud? How loud is an orgy usually? He’s definitely going to have to watch some porn later to do research. He responds:

**Idk yet. But well figure it out. Anyone else in?**

Michael goes to set the phone down as he waits for a response, but before it hits the coffee table, his phone buzzes. It’s another text from the group chat, this one not from Rich but from Connor Murphy, a coworker of Michael’s.

**I have no idea what this is about exactly. But fuck YES I want to help you fuck Jeremy.**

Two more texts come in at rapid sped. One’s a notification telling him:        

**_Evan Hansen has left the group chat_ **

**Figures Ev would be out. LOL**

Connor replies. Michael figured adding him to the group chat would be risky considering he’s never seen Evan express much interest in anything. Especially not sexually related. He checks the remaining member of the chat. Only three other people besides himself. Rich, Connor and –

**Sup, bitches. Ook but liek Im so down 4 fuckn Jeremy w/ u.**

It’s Jake Dilinger, an old high school friend of Michael’s. Michael replies to the group:

**Okay, I guess that’s everyone. Im not too sure we should do it at our apartment tho, might be too noisy.**

**Hotel? Maybe we can all pitch in to get a nice suite for the night and day?**

Connor replies instantly. Michael ponders his suggestion. Would a hotel be safe? Would it be easy for someone to see them? He knows Jeremy wants the occasion to be as private as possible, but would a hotel be private enough? He types back to the group chat:

**Would that be like … private? And should this just be a one bed room?**

**Dood, it’d be super private. And of course! We’ll all get out of your hair so u and Jer can spend some alone time ;)**

Jake types to the chat. Michael laughs the awkwardness of it all off. As he goes to shove the phone back into his pocket, Jeremy walks into the living room.

“Hey, babe,” Jeremy says as he greets Michael with a kiss.

“Hey, Jer,” He responds.

Michael tries shoving the phone further, already anxious about the upcoming event. He feels the couch dip as Jeremy takes a seat next to him. Just then, his phone buzzes. He reaches in and grabs the phone to check the group chat.

**Ewww, Jake! Lol, u guys r cute tho. So I have an idea for the THING, for lack of a better word. Should we all have like a mini party before we start? We can all bring snacks and sing Happy Birthday! It’d be cute.**

**That sounds super gay, Rich.**

Connor is the one to reply to Rich. Michael can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. As he goes to respond, Jeremy pears over his shoulder.

“Is that for the birthday plan?” Jeremy asks.

Michael mumbles a ‘no’ before replying:

**Lmao guys. Idk that sounds kinda**

Michael is interrupted while typing. Jeremy steals his phone, ripping the piece of technology out form his hand.

“Jer!”

“Ooo! A mini party?” Jeremy says.

He’s staring at the group chat, mesmerized by everyone’s comments.

“I like it! I think it’d be cute to have a nice party before. You guys said you were gonna buy a suite for the day, why not throw a little party, too? We can all eat and watcha movie or something before.”

Michael blushes at Jeremy’s enthusiasm for the event. How can he talk about being gangbanged so calmly like that? He nods and takes the phone, deleting his first response and instead he writes:

**Actually, Jeremy likes that idea.**

**Ook but liek what time should we start the party and what time should the ACTUAL partayyy start?**

Jake asks. Michael shakes his head, he’s not too sure. Should the event last all day or all night? Obviously, they should do the party first. Seeing as no one’s going to be in the mood for food and drinks after they’ve fucked Jeremy for God knows how many hours. But when should the party start and when should it end? How long does an orgy typically last when compared to a normal friendly birthday gathering? He looks over at his boyfriend, calmly watching TV. He could just ask.

“Hey, Jer?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy responds.

“How long should uh _it_ , last?”

Jeremy shrugs, not bothering to look at Michael.

“However long it takes for everyone to finish, I guess.”

Michael nods, feeling reassured. He heads back to the group chat and types:

**We should all be done celebrating the mini party by around 11 at night. Then we should move into the other party.**

**Sounds good, homie. Whos bringn what snacks? I call bringn salsa and chips.**

Jake responds again. Michael already knows he’ll bring Jeremy’s favorites.

**I’m bringing my dick, rock hard and ready to go. Not much else.**

Michael nearly chokes on his spit. He furiously responds:

**CONNOR. YOU HAVE TO BRING AT LEAST ONE SNACK ITEM WE CAN ALL SHARE.**

**FINE.**

It’s been 5 days since then. Now, Michael, Connor, and Jake all stand inside the hotel Lovers’ suite. Rich has been given the role of bringing Jeremy to the scene. Michael and Jake have already set up the snacks as Connor debates on which genre of movie to watch. It’s already five when Michael gets a call from Rich.

“Okay, but dude. Don’t take thith too theriouthly, but me and Jeremy are in a cab right now becauthe my car broke down,” Rich lisps into the phone.

“What?!” Michael exclaims.

“Itth no big deal. Ath I thaid, we’re in a cab now. We’ll be there thortly.”

With that, Rich hangs up. Michael tells the news to the others.

“Are you serious?” Connor asks, “I’ve been half hard this whole time, now I have to wait another half hour?”

“Chill out, little dude. I’m sure we’ll all get our fix once we’re done with the party. You can go first if you want,” Jake mocks.

“You’re lucky I’m too hard to punch you.”

Michael peacefully breaks the quarrel, sitting down on the lavish bed once he’s done. His head rests on the fluffy pillows that now surround his body. He sighs, knowing the bed will be absolutely destroyed by the time they’re done. He pulls out his phone to scroll though social media while he waits Rich’s and Jeremy’s arrival. Another 25 minutes pass, he hears the door in the other room click open. They must be here. He gets up and follows the small chatter he can hear in the den of the suite.

“Happy birthday, Jer!” Jake yells as Jeremy and Rich walk into the suite.

Jeremy and Jake hug. Connor, on the other side of the room sighs and comes over to wrap Jeremy in a surprisingly genuine hug. Michael goes over to plant a kiss on Jeremy’s check. Rich makes grossed out sounds as he does. Michael and Jeremy laugh it off.

“So, who’s ready to party?” Jake asks.

The next few hours are pleasant. Everyone enjoys themselves as they gorge on sugary foods and drinks. Connor appropriately chose ‘Baby Driver’ as their movie of choice. Michael had never seen the film before but he can tell Connor has great taste when it comes to movies. The movie is perfectly high in action but not overly cheesy like most action films are. Jeremy seems to enjoy it, too. Which makes everyone a lot more eased. Once the movie is over, Rich sets up the ‘Cleaning Brigade’ to help clean and reorganize the suite. Once that’s settled, everyone stares at each other for a few moments. Surprisingly, Jeremy speaks first.

“Are we all ready?”

One by one, the boys make their way into the suite’s bedroom. Jeremy situates himself on the bed, stripping completely before laying still on the bed. Michael, Connor, Jake, and Rich surround Jeremy.

“You sure _you’re_ ready, babe?”

“Always,” Jeremy says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Thank you to all who commented, yesterday's was very hard to choose from! I want to do them all! There are a few I plan on doing in the future. But for now, comment below with a prompt, kink, or idea you want to see written next! Until then, Sky.


	4. Day Four - Stranger Things Inspired Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really outdid myself here! I used an original idea, but tomorrow I will continue with doing requests.

_”Hello? Can anyone hear me? M-Michael? Someone help me! I can’t see anyone!”_

Jeremy walked the around the decrepit forest without a trace of any other humans. How long has it been? When was the last time he’s seen another person? What day of the week was it? Jeremy had almost lost count. No, that’s right. It’s a Tuesday, the fourth day he’s been in … whatever this is.

It was all so surreal the first day Jeremy got here. Everything is the same, except the overwhelming feeling that something is always there, always looking for you. Despite everything remaining the same, the aesthetics have changed. There’s this strange slime everywhere and the sky seems to be enwrapped in the same ethereal blue shade.

The first thing the boy did was run back his house, but there was no one. He thought he could hear the ghost footsteps of his father. He could have _sworn_ he heard the phone ring, the same tune he’s heard hundreds of times at his house. But it was all fake. It must be his mind messing with the unfamiliar world around him. It was probably trying to compensate for the absence of humans.

Jeremy spent his first night in this world in his home, although the gloom of this world makes it feel anything but homely. He slept in his bed, trying to pretend like it was all just a bad dream. But he knew it was all too real. Despite knowing he wasn’t with his father, he was sure he heard his father’s voice wake him. He could hear a faint, “Where is my son?”

But he couldn’t be sure. He continued to sleep in the bed that felt too unfamiliar to call his.

Michael paced. It was day four. Jeremy was still missing. He was the last person to see Jeremy alive, and the police had at first suspected him to be involved with his best friend’s disappearance. Now that they’ve eliminated Michael off their suspect list, they moved onto Jeremy’s mother. However, she had a tight alibi: She was apparently working on business related means in Sacramento. Her alibi checked out with both her coworkers and her boss. Michael didn’t consider it a surprise she was uninterested in helping Mr.Heere find their son.

That bitch.

But Michael knew he couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him, especially in a situation as dire as this. By now, police were losing hope but Michael stayed determined to find Jeremy. He had retold the story of the last time he’d seen him a thousand times now, it almost felt like a movie at this point. But regardless, Michael spoke clearly as he told the story. But that really was all it was: a story. Michael had to keep back the private details, although police told him not to.

But who is going to tell the authorities that two secret lovers were out in the woods celebrating a hidden anniversary? Who is going to tell them that Michael knew everything was all his fault? He shouldn’t have let Jeremy walk away, he should’ve apologized. But it’s too late now and he’s gone. Literally.

That night Michael and Jeremy agreed to meet at their private place, the makeshift fort they made as children now served as a place they could hide their love from the rest of the world. They met at midnight and shared sweet words and passionate kisses as always. But Michael had to ruin it. He had to bring up coming out. He’s wanted to come out to everyone for months now.

“Do you know what my dad would do to me?” Jeremy had spat that faithful night.

“Jer, we have to one day. We can’t hide it forever. What will he say when we move in together?” Michael asked.

Jeremy gaffed, “Who said we were moving in together?”

Michael’s face fell, he looked away.

“Y-You don’t want to live with me?” Michael mumbled.

“I don’t have time for this, fuck,” Jeremy said as he stepped out of the play fort.

Michael called out to Jeremy but he didn’t return. He spent the next half hour sulking in the fort, hoping Jeremy would come back but couldn’t be bothered in looking for him himself.

God, he was such an idiot. If only he had gotten up and went after him, he wouldn’t be missing. He would have his Jeremy and his father would have his son. Michael sat on his bed, staring up at the ‘Jaws’ poster. He and Jeremy went to see it theatres when it ran as a throwback during last year’s Halloween season. Jeremy had argued that an eight year old movie shouldn’t be classified as a ‘throwback’. Michael made fun of him for caring so much about movie marketing. Regardless, the two went and had one the best secret-dates they ever had. Michael missed that day, they had so much fun. Two boys in a dark cinema can do so much without being caught. He sighed as he turned over to turn off the bedside lamp.

“Where are you Jeremy?”

With that, he turned off the light and fell asleep into a fitful slumber.

Jeremy shivered against the tree he chose to sleep against. He could’ve sworn he slept for hours and hours but the light outside had stayed the ever constant light blue. He frowned as he looked around his surroundings, the forest grows thick with fog this time of day (or night?). He got up, shaking the fallen leafs off himself and started walking into town again. Would today be any different than the others?

Jeremy found himself past the town, and into his neighborhood. This part of the world seems the least inviting, vines and goo are stuck to nearly every surface. Jeremy trips several times trying to find his way to his destination. It’s not long until he reaches Michael’s house, he tries to go through the front door, but it’s covered in the grotesque slime. He decides to instead use his preferred entrance: Michael’s bedroom window. Michael has slept in his basement since as long as he’s lived in this house. The small rectangular window was easily accessible to Jeremy and he was just skinny enough to fit through. Especially now, not having eaten in days. Jeremy easily slipped inside the teen’s bedroom.

He thought of closing the window but for what? It’s not like he had an audience. He looks around the familiar room, the ceiling low and the floor caked with dirt. Michael’s basement-room was dirty, like most basements are. But it’s livable and comfortable despite the dirt. Jeremy sits on the beanbag that’s seated in front of his TV. He wishes power worked in this world so he could play a video game. Suddenly, his emotions get the best of him.

Why him? What did he do to deserve this? What God would put anyone in such a miserable world?

Jeremy thinks back to the last night he saw Michael, his last connection to humankind. After he left him, he decided to take the long way back home. He followed the trees of the forest back home, shivering with cold as the night grew darker. Suddenly, a gurgling noise rang through the forest.

“Hello?” Jeremy stated, “Who is there?”

No reply. Jeremy continued walking through the forest, until another gurgle could be heard. This time louder. It sounded like an animal throwing up its food. _’An Animal could be hurt’_ , Jeremy thought. He started to walk towards the sound, stopping at a large tree. In the middle was a gaping hole full of disgusting looking slime. He brought his hand up to touch the goop. It smeared his fingers, seemingly impossible to remove. He stuck his hand in further, testing the limits of its depth. That’s the last thing he remembered before waking up in this world.

Tears roll down Jeremy’s face. He just wants to go back home. He wants to see his dad and go back to school and to see Michael. _‘I want to talk to Michael, please. I want to talk to Michael,’_ he thinks before falling asleep in the chair.

Michael stirs in his sleep, waking up from yet another nightmare. He sits up in bed, checking the digital clock that reads 3 am. He sighs, one more nightmare and he’s checking himself into a mental institution. Before he can get settled into bed, his lamp flickers. He stops in his track, glancing around the room. The clocks red light is still on, indicating the power has not gone off in the house. Next, the standing lamp flickers. Michael immediately gets up, feeling like something is watching his every move.

“Hello? Who’s fucking with me? It’s not funny, okay?”

All the lights turn on at once and then suddenly fall dark again. Michael backs up towards his bed again. _’What the hell is going on?’_ He looks behind him, his digital clock faces him. It reads 3 am still, he could’ve sworn at least one minute has passed since he woke up. He looks closer at the clock, its red numbers still showing 3:00 A. The ‘A’ standing for am. Suddenly, the clock goes out as well.

“What the fu-?”

**hELL0**

Michael flings back, his ass hitting the concrete basement floor. Did his fucking clock just spell out ‘hello?’ The lights flicker again.

“Holy shit. No, no, no, no. This has to be some fucking joke. Are you a ghost or something?”

The lights flicker again, this time more vividly and brightly. Michael stays seated on the floor, is he communicating with a damn ghost?

“Fine, then. I’ll humor you. Blink once for yes and twice for no, got it?”

The lights blink once.

“Holy shit,” Michael mumbles.

Could this be a prank? It’s one elaborate one at that! Michael gets up from the floor, scanning the room. Why would some ghost be talking to him now of all times in his life? Unless … No. That’s most likely impossible.

“J-Jeremy?”

The lights blink once.

It might be 4 am but Michael Mell will not stop. He just came into contact with his best friend and boyfriend who has been missing for the last five days. Who could stop after that? Michael’s painting carefully, letter by letter. He finally can relax for a moment after painting the letter ‘Z’. As he steps back, he reaches for the cardboard box containing his families Christmas decorations. He pulls out a long 15 foot string of lights and begins tacking them to the wall, above each letter respectfully. It only takes an hour of dedicated work, but he’s finally done.

“Alright, Jeremy. Can you hear me?”

The lights blink once.

“Good. Try using the lights I set up on the wall. Tell me where you are.”

There’s a long pause. Michael swears he’s not crazy. He knows it sounds crazy. Not many people end up communicating with their missing best friend.

The lights finally blink. Michael follows their moves. They quickly hop from one light to the next. After a dozen or so letters, Michael figures he’s done. He adds the letters in his head to create the phrase or word Jeremy is trying to spell.

“‘I don’t know’?” Michael asks.

The lights blink once.

Michael’s face slumps, but he needs to ask more questions.

“Jeremy, are you … dead?”

The lights flicker rapidly. In rapid fire they spell

**NO NOT YET**

“Yet?” Michael asks.

The lights respond slower this time and spell

**HUNGRY**

 “I wanna help you, Jeremy. Where are you? Please, just tell me, baby.”

**RIGHT HERE**

“But you’re not! I can’t see you. No one can find you!”

**FOREST**

“What? You mean where we were together last?” Michael asks.

He can’t seem to shake the feel of unease. How can Jeremy be right here if he’s really not? Michael takes a breath before the lights respond.

**YES AT TREE**

“Tree …? What tree, Jeremy?”

It takes multiple minutes for Michael to connect the next one. The phrase is long but it is also simple:

**BIG ONE W SLIME I NEED HELP I WILL BE THERE**

Michael is furiously riding his bike down McCandless Street, his feet moving so fast he often kicks his peddles. Michael turns into the woods, driving the bike right over multiple braches and forgotten leafs. As he rides, he spots their fort. It shouldn’t be too far now, should it? He peers over his shoulder so many times he losses count. He glares at every tree he passes, careful not to miss the one Jeremy referenced. As he peddles through the brush, Michael can hear an odd gurgle. He stops his bike to look around for any sign of a tree.

“Hello? Jeremy?”

No answer. He leaves the bike on the ground to investigate the sound. As he walks, he inspects every tree that seems to fit the one Jeremy described. In no time, he spots a tree with a large gaping hole down its middle. It’s full of a dull colored slime. This has to be the one Jeremy was talking about. But he’s disgusted just at thinking of putting his hand in there. Michael has to take a deep breath before he plunges his hand inside the mess. It’s warm and sticky and Michael’s certain it’s going to push him in entirely until suddenly, something grabs him. He pulls out, whatever it is holding on too tight. He needs the help of his other hand to pull the thing off of him. As he struggles, he can see the beginnings of a head and arm.

“Jeremy?”

Michael pulls harder than ever now, knowing that this has to be Jeremy. After what feels like hours, Jeremy is pulled out of the tree with one large tug from Michael. He lays on the forest floor, unconscious but alive.

“Is he gonna be alright, doctor?” Asked Mr.Heere.

He had no idea why Jeremy’s best friend since diapers would knock on his door at five in the morning. But when he opened it, it was clear that it was no morning visit. In his arms were his son of 16 years. Who had been missing for five days. Within an hour, Jeremy was lying in a hospital bed at Hoppers Care Center. Police haven’t gotten much out of the boy since he’s been in and out of consciousness, but they stay in the lobby waiting the next time Jeremy will wake so they can ask him a few questions. They’ve already asked Michael hundreds, but he uses the same bogus story every time.

“Sirs, you have to believe me. I was riding my bike at night because I couldn’t fall asleep knowing Jeremy was still out there. So I was looking for him and while I was riding on McCandless Street, I saw him walking! He looked high and confused. When I got close, he fainted. So I drove him to his fathers so we could get him to the hospital. Honestly!”

Michael had already confessed to Mr.Heere. About the lights and the slime. About the craziness of it all. To his surprise, Mr.Heere believed him. They cleaned Jeremy off the slime and put him back in the dirtied clothes and then drove him to the hospital. Although Michael had confessed to Jeremy’s father, he didn’t look like he cared too much. He was just happy to have his son back.

Michael is sitting on the recliner adjacent Jeremy’s bed. It’s already noon now. Despite never getting any sleep, he still can’t seem to rest his eyes. Michael stares out the window, the light muted by the blinds. Just when he thinks he’s falling asleep, he can hear a voice besides him.

“Mikey?”

Michael spins around in the chair. Jeremy’s eyes are half closed and he looks dazed. Michael smiles in his direction.

“Yeah, it’s me, baby. Try not to be too loud, or else the cops outside will hear and ask you questions.”

Jeremy smiles, then frowns.

“Cops? Why?”

“Because it’s 1983 and when a boy goes missing there’s usually some huge news broadcast and every paper in town talks about it for weeks. Look, just be quiet and don’t answer questions,” Michael persists.

“Missing?” Jeremy asks.

Michael stares at Jeremy. Could he have forgotten already? That’s not likely; if Michael were lost in an unknown world for five days he’d sure as Hell remember it. He shrugs it off. Maybe the whole ordeal can just be his little secret. Jeremy’s father probably didn’t believe it anyway and the cops sure wouldn’t. Michael’s just happy to have Jeremy back. He looks at the boy again.

“Go to sleep, baby,” Michael says as he lovingly teases his hair.

Jeremy gives a finally smile before drifting off to sleep. Michael returns to his previous position of staring out the window. He’s content on forgetting about everything, too. Maybe he can even get some sleep like Jeremy. Suddenly, a nurse arrives into the room.

“Mr. Mell? Your mother is on the phone. She’s asking why there’s paint on her walls and Christmas lights around your room in September.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Hopefully you guys enjoyed the Stranger Things fic. I recently binged the second season last week and it was incredible! Can you find all the references? See you tomorrow, Sky.


	5. Day Five - Possessiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anxiously_waiting for this great idea! Hopefully I've put a nice spin on it from the one's I traditionally see.

It took three months, seventeen days, seven hours and 46 minutes for me to make Jeremy mine. I first saw the boy walking from the convenience store to his home. He wore blue jeans and a striped shirt, white converse quickly turned dark in the rain and sleet. He was running, carrying a tan plastic bag I’m sure held his most favorite after school snack. It was mere fate that I would find him. Who knew I would be late to defense training and decide to grab an ice tea on that day, at exactly that time? I don’t believe in God, but if I did, I would pray my thanks to Him.

Whilst sitting in the car chugging my tea, the boy ran by. He must have good senses and could tell I was looking at him the entire time; because he turned as he ran by to wave at me. Everything about that gesture was incredibly intoxicating. The way his hand moved delicately, fingers moving freely with such a spirit only a young man like him can have. The way he smiled politely after, taking measure so that I could see it. There was something about him. Something about the way he moved, something about the way he smiled. Although I wasn’t sure what it was, it was something I liked.

This was three months, seventeen days, seven hours and 49 minutes ago. Now, it’s January. The autumn season has come and gone, now winter has settled in and claimed all the life from trees. New Jersey is encased in a beautiful blanket of white snow at the moment. The forecast called for ice in the afternoon, but for right now the weather is as prefect as it can be in the midst of winter. I close the blinds and erect the plywood board. It only takes three minutes to hammer it into place. Once I’m finished, the light from the outside snow is gone and only the grim light of the basement remains.

Now it’s three months, seventeen days, seven hours and 52 minutes since I’ve first seen Jeremy. Although, I guess I don’t have to count anymore. I sigh as I lean down on the basement floor to touch the boy’s sleeping face. He looks peaceful, as peaceful as he did all of the other nights I’ve watched him sleep from his window. But today is much different. Jeremy will not be waking up in his cozy bed in his clean room in his loving home. Today, or perhaps tomorrow depending on how long he sleeps, he will wake up with me. In his new bed in his new room in his new home.

And he will start his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Hopefully today's chapter made you all miss Halloween because I sure do! I love writing short horror stories and thought the possessiveness prompt would go nicely with that. I might touch more on short horror stories in the future, but for now keep sending in suggestions for any kinks, prompts, or ideas you would like to see in this fic! Until tomorrow, Sky.


	6. Day Six - Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Lilzylou132 for today's chapter! I was actually going to continue with the gang bang series but once I saw this I couldn't help myself! Thank you once again!

Halloween parties are quite literally, the worst kind of parties. Sure, the holiday of Halloween is fun in itself but one hundred drunk, half-dressed teenagers flipping themselves over tables and head butting walls isn’t exactly what Michael signed up for. He’s wearing his ‘costume’, a simple outfit consisting of blue jeans and his crew neck sweatshirt that says ‘CREEPS’. Not exactly a costume but at least it’s better than Jeremy’s outfit of choice. He’s wearing a hideous hoodie designed with a futuristic zig-zag of patterns, what Jeremy calls a ‘robot’ costume. However ugly it is, Michael still finds it adorable. They’ve worn matching Halloween costumes since second grade but this year is the first they decided not to.  Michael, who doesn’t take Halloween as seriously as Jeremy, thought it was alright. But Jeremy took the decision to heart.

“What’s wrong with wearing matching costumes again?” Jeremy had asked.

“One, we’re way too old to take Halloween seriously. And two, we don’t want people thinking we’re together. I’m sure last year people started thinking assuming it because of the _Super Bros_  disaster. We don’t need them to question it any further. It’s already odd we’re going together, anymore and they’ll know we’re dating,” Michael deduced.

“Our Mario and Luigi costumes were awesome last year! And we’re never too old to love Halloween, dude.”

Michael smiled. It’s adorable the way Jeremy can get so caught up on things, even small ones like this. He must have been staring too long because Jeremy’s face turned sour.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jeremy stammered.

“Because you’re adorable,” Michael admitted.

Michael smiles at the memory and looks back at his boyfriend now. Jeremy even while wearing the ugly hoodie, is still unbelievably cute. He’s holding a red solo cup, a classic staple of any teenage Halloween party. All around them are half naked girls and fully naked boys, some running around wearing nothing but togas. Although Michael swears he remembered the flyer said nothing about it being a Greek party. The music of the party is loud and not foreign to Michael’s ears. He’s probably heard every piece of music in existence at least three times, especially party music. Party music has a distinct ring to it. It’s fast but not intense, it almost serves more like background noise at a party like this.

Michael and Jeremy are standing against the wall, quite literally being wallflowers. Michael eyes Jeremy’s hand as it rests on the wall behind them, the other focused on carrying his drink. Michael places his right on top, gently brushing his fingers against his boyfriend’s. When you’ve been secretly dating for a year, you figure out how to get away with small gestures like this. Michael can feel Jeremy pull his away, but knows he’s blushing.

“Hey everybody!” Exclaims a very drunk Jenna.

Jenna is wearing an obvious 1980s inspired costume, complete with leg warmers and big frizzy hair. Michael wonders how many cans of hairspray she had to use. She rounds the corner of the living room, carrying her own red solo cup. There’s lots of people on this side of the party but it seems she’s looking for no one specific.

“Let’s all play spin the fucking bottle!” She slurs.

A group of people gather together and quickly make a spot on the floor to play the game. A good dozen people are playing, most Michael recognizes. There’s Jake, Brooke, Rich and obviously Jenna. Jeremy and Michael watch as the group passes a bottle of booze around, seeing who can finish it off first so they can use it in their game. Whilst in the middle of watching them drink copious amounts of alcohol, Chloe Valentine who is easily one of the most popular girls, rushes to Michael and Jeremy’s side.

“No wallflowers allowed in spin the bottle! Get _in_  here!” She states.

Jeremy looks directly at Michael, they shrug seeing no real damage done in an innocent game of spin the bottle. The two are seated on the ground with the rest of the group. Chloe takes a seat a few people away from them. It seems Rich finishes the bottle of alcohol, everyone cheering for him as he slams the empty bottle on the ground.

“Alright bitches! Who’s spinnin’ first?” Rich asks.

Brooke raises her hand, but before anyone can protest, she takes the bottle and spins it counterclockwise against the hardwood floor. It spins at least a dozen times before landing directly on Chloe.

“Now, whoever you land on is gonna be who you’re … uh. I haven’t figured that out yet,” Brooke says.

The crowd laughs at her adorable drunken stupor. Chloe beams with excitement and takes the bottle in her hands. She looks around the group, almost like surveying who she hopes it lands on. She spins it, a lot less hard than Brooke’s. It lands on a student Michael doesn’t recognize, but he looks surprised as he looks up at Chloe. Chloe flips her hair, looking back at her friend Brooke.

“So, what’re we doing?”

“Hmm,” Brooke pauses to think, “You two are gonna make out. Right now.”

Chloe blushes but leans across the circle as the boy zooms in on her lips. The two being making out, the group clapping and laughing at their passion and awkwardness. Jeremy grabs Michael’s hand and Michael looks his way. Everything about Jeremy’s eyes is begging to leave. Michael nods and goes to stand up. But he’s stopped because someone is pulling his pants leg.

“Where ya going, dude? The bottle just landed on you!” The person yells.

Everyone is looking at him, he looks down at the bottle which is indeed pointing in his direction. He sits back down awkwardly. He figures Rich must have spun the bottle again while Chloe and other boy were making out. He leans forward and grabs the bottle, its cold glass shape feeling unfamiliar under his fingers. He spins it clockwise. Everyone seems to be staring intently at its path. It spins a total of sixteen times before landing directly on Jeremy. Everyone looks at the two in awkward silence. Michael can feel Jeremy’s heart racing.

“Well,” Rich starts, “Looks like you two are gonna be spending your next seven minutes in heaven!”

The crowd laughs as they push Jeremy and Michael to their feet. Brooke ushers them into a nearby closet, three others laugh as she does so. In the distance, Michael can hear another round of cackling and ooo’s, ensuring him they’ve started another round.

“Well, try not to have too much fun. I’m timing you on my phone. Don’t be too loud, boys,” Brooke drunkenly giggles.

Brooke pushes them into the closet fully, Jeremy trips in a shoe stepping in. Michael, barley above a whisper, mumbles:

“Seven, I can do it in three.”

The people behind her laugh as she slams the door on them. Thankfully, they couldn’t hear him. Michael can’t even see Jeremy in the dark closet. But he knows how embarrassed he is. He takes his hand, squeezing hard.

“They’re just joking baby. They don’t really know,” Michael ensures him.

“I know. I just don’t like being made fun of.”

They just stand there for a few moments. Michael listening to the steady sound of Jeremy’s breathing.

“Were you serious about the three minutes things?’ Jeremy asks.

Michael laughs, “I mean not really but … I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

Michael can’t tell for sure but he can almost sense Jeremy smiling like an idiot. He pulls him in by the waist, kissing him deeply. Jeremy smiles into the kiss, humming a little. Michael kisses deeper, fisting his hands through Jeremy’s stupid hoodie. They break apart after a good minute of constant kissing.

“I know it wasn’t exactly three minutes, but hopefully we’ll have more time later at my house,” Michael says.

“Any seven minutes I spend with you is heaven,” Jeremy whispers.

With that, the door opens. Brooke and two other people are stand on the other side smiling.

“Have fun boys?” Brooke asks mockingly.

“Oh yeah, lots,” Michael says sarcastically.

Brooke and the others smile as they retake their seats. And for once, Michael’s glad they don’t get the joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! I think very soon I will be continuing the gang bang series, so I might have to hold off on suggestions for one day. But that doesn't mean you can't send them in! Please comment any idea, prompt, or kink you want to see written below! Until then, Sky.


	7. Day Seven - Yandere Rich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank my best friend Melissa for this idea! She didn't exactly give me the whole idea, just that she'd love to see a boyf riends fic from Rich's perspective. I wanted to give it a go and maybe hint to a future sequel? ;)

I don’t consider myself a needy person. Scratch that, that’s exactly the opposite. Of course I’m a needy person. If I wasn’t constantly needing attention, then I wouldn’t have gotten a Squip. And the only reason I got a Squip was to get Jeremy. And the only reason I can’t get Jeremy is because he’s with Michael. And the only reason he’s with Michael is because … Well, a lot actually. Michael is handsome and funny and way cooler than me. And I’m short, weird, have a lisp and wear Nike tank-tops. Jeremy isn’t a popular kid, but he isn’t labeled the bottom of the class like me. Neither is Michael, which makes them perfect for each other. I knew in order to get Jeremy’s attention, I needed to be better. Jeremy won’t fall for a nerd but he wouldn’t fall for a total jock either. But how can someone meet in the middle like that? That’s where my Squip comes in.

Getting a Squip is probably the best and worst thing a boy can do my situation. The best part about having a Squip is that I never have to _really_ make decisions, he can just make them for me. The worst of it is knowing I’m not entirely myself. I remember my mom said something about just ‘being yourself’ when I was a freshmen. But I can’t really think of stuff like that anymore. Freshmen year feels like lightyears away, even yesterday seems so long ago. Ever since I got a Squip, I haven’t had to keep track of time and the days just kind of mesh together in an incoherent mess.

**Stop worrying about that, Rich. It’s been two weeks, do you hate me already?**

No, I think to the Squip. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem to be real to other people. He’s a wingman inside my own head. Scary at first, but over time I got used to his constant presence in my daily life. I round the corner with my food tray, glistening back is a half cooked chicken sandwich and green beans that look like they came from a can. No, they would probably look better if they came from a can. I sigh as I walk the length of the cafeteria, my eyes already set on the back of the room. There they are: Jeremy and Michael. They’re being cute as always. Michael will make an obvious joke and Jeremy will laugh, blushing the innocent shade of pink.

That beautiful pink color always makes me itch. Not literally itch, it’s more like a longing than it is an itch. I see Jeremy having such a good time sometimes and I can’t help myself. I want to pull him into my arms and pet his hair like I know Michael must do at night. I want to bury my face in his shirt and breathe in his scent. I want to be with him all the time like Michael is. I want to kiss him and hug him for hours like he does. I would do and give _anything_ for Jeremy to even look at me.

I’m walking close to them now, my eyes only set Jeremy in his pure form. But before I can bridge the gap between us, I’m shocked. I whimper and quickly turn away, hoping Jeremy didn’t catch me. I straighten my back as I prepare for my lecture.

**You can’t just approach him like that! You need to wait! There’s a high probability that Mr.Grosser will pair you two up together today in History for an assignment. I’ll ensure you both get a good grade and that it gives you an opportunity to stay after school with him.**

I nod and smile as I walk away from Jeremy and Michael’s table. My US History class is my favorite because I sit next to Jeremy. I always avoid eye contact and try not to speak unless we have a project together (which we usually do, Mr.Gosser is a sucker for handing out excessive amounts of projects).

It’s now fourth period, the last period of the day and also the best. I’m currently sitting next to Jeremy Heere, who in my personal opinion, is easily the cutest boy in school. I smile secretly as he leans over to grab a book from his bag. He’s so cute, he doesn’t even know it. And I might be staying after school with him today! I stifle my excitement as I hear the Squip judge my choice of word.

**Maybe? You will be staying after school with him, Rich. I don’t lie and neither does the universe. I know big things are happening today.**

Before I can ask questions, Mr.Gosser takes his seat up front. Everyone finally takes a seat as well as we all await instruction from our teacher. He sighs as he picks up his curriculum book.

“Uh, grab a textbook from the back and read pages 190 to 193 and write down the three main ideas of the Manifest Destiny. Then you and you’re table partner will be creating a poster of the effects of Manifest Destiny,” Mr.Gosser says.

With that, half the class groans. Mr.Gosser is notorious for handing mundane and often boring assignments. He never teaches, it’s more like a textbook teaches me. Mr.Gosser takes a seat at his desk, opening his laptop. He’s probably going to watch Dexter on Netflix again.

**What are you doing? Jeremy’s asking you a question!**

“Uh, what?” I ask.

Jeremy stares at me funny for a moment before replying, “I asked if we could maybe stay after class to do the poster part. I have to … uh, go. But I’ll be back before the bell rings so we can do our project.”

My checks flush a dark red color. Jeremy really is asking me to stay after for the project! I let my Squip respond for me. He says something I’m sure Jeremy will like. With that, Jeremy gets up from his seat and easily walks out of the door without Mr.Gosser noticing. The man is too enrapt in season four episode eight of Dexter to mind much. My head spins and my heart flutters as I think about staying after school with him today. I’m happy for a matter of ten seconds until I realize where he’s going. He’s, of course, skipping class with Michael as usual. For the past month, he’s been skipping every other US History class with Michael. They probably fuck or something under the bleachers. I frown knowing although I’m half joking, it’s most likely the case.

I’ve never hated anyone in my life, but if I did the one person I hate would be Michael Mell. It’s not just that he’s dating Jeremy. But everything about him is horrible. His sense of humor, his taste in music, his clothes, his voice, his hair, his stupid fucking face. I hate everything about him. Okay, so I said before I didn’t hate anyone, but that’s a lie. I really hate Michael Mell. I’m not perfect but with my Squip I sure am better than before! I have no lisp anymore, I don’t wear sandals, I don’t walk funny, and I don’t smell weird. That was the Rich Gorganski of the past! Yet Jeremy still chooses Michael over me?

Alright, fine. Maybe I’m being a little harsh. After all, Jeremy and Michael have known each other for years and we’ve never been exactly been friends before. At least, not like they have. And it’s not like I’m giving Jeremy a choice. It’s always been just Michael, never me or Michael. I’m too ugly for him to even consider me.

**You’re not ugly, Rich. Not anymore. You look better today, in fact: I’m activating your pheromones to really get Jeremy’s attention. You’ll be irresistible once he walks back in the room.**

Really? But just last week you told me I was ugly. Have you really been making me look more attractive? How is that even possible?

**It’s true, Rich. Didn’t you noticed those girls staring at you in the hall this morning? They weren’t staring at you funny. They _liked_ you, Rich. Those stupid bitches were too blind by their lust to see you liked dick! **

I smile. It is true! People are starting to like me! And if random girls can like me, surely Jeremy will too soon! Just that alone is enough for me to get through the rest of class. The class goes by quicker than I imagined now that I’ve been encouraged. Jeremy does finally come back, he sneaks in with only fifteen minutes until the bell rings. He smiles as kids pour out of the classroom and into the hall. I turn towards him as he takes out his binder. I fill him in on what we went over I class, letting the Squip do most of the talking. I can notice he’s leaning more into me. This is what the Squip was talking about, right? It really is true that Jeremy is finding me more attractive.

I ty to subside my excitement as we continue with the project. Half way through, Jeremy gets a text on his phone. He whips it out, I snarl at the disgusting phone case he has. To most people it would be normal, but I know the truth to the case. It’s a half a digital, 8bit style heart. And guess who has the other half? I gag on the inside as he shoves it back into his pocket.

“Hey, wanna walk with me? I need to pick something up in second hall. It shouldn’t take too long but I didn’t wanna leave you with all this work,” Jeremy states.

“Yeah, no problem,” I answer.

It takes a total of two minutes and sixteen seconds for me to calm myself, I only know because my Squip told me it took that long. He, of course, scolds me for being so happy when you should pretend you don’t care. But how can I not _not_ care? This is Jeremy Heere we’re talking about. The cutest boy in school is walking with me, alone, in the hall! I was so worried that I had to let my Squip do most of the talking. But once we finally reach second hall, I regain my knowledge on how to breathe.

“So what’re we here for anyway?” I ask.

“Oh, I need to grab my jacket. I left it while I was gone fourth period,” Jeremy replies simply.

He leads the way as he walks into an empty classroom. At the front of the room, jacket in hand, is Michael Mell. My blood instantly boils. What is he doing here? Why does this have to be now of all times? Right when Jeremy is starting to like me! He briskly crosses the room and takes his jacket. He reaches his arms around him and embraces him like a sick and lost puppy! It’s disgusting!

“Oh hey. I’m not sure I know you, do you know Jeremy?” The monster asks.

My fists clench. Why is he here? Why is he talking to me? Why does he have to defile Jeremy every second he gets? I want to reach up and snap his neck. I back away, my emotions are getting the best of me. Jeremy and Michael are looking at me with wide eyes, like they’re worried I’ll hurt them. I shake my head, turning around.

“I have to go. I forgot that … something came up. Bye, Jeremy,” I say as I walk out of the classroom.

I don’t turn around, I walk home so fast I almost trip half a dozen times. I don’t bother to eat dinner because my Squip says I’m too fat for Jeremy. I try to argue that Michael is chubbier than me and Jeremy loves him. But I don’t eat to appease him and because I don’t want to be shocked. I don’t bother to answer my phone when Jeremy calls later that night.

**_'Jeremy <3' calling_ **

Everything in me is begging for me to hit ‘accept’. But I feel the Squip take over my body once again and slide to ‘deny’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! I am currently under a tight schedule at the moment as I have a lot of life stuff to do Thursday and Friday. Thursday's upload will be incredibly short because right after classes, I will be in a college study until Friday evening. I want to devote an entire day to the Gang Bang sequel chapter and I would need to wait to Saturday or Sunday to do so. I hope you guys understand why it's taking so long for me to write that particular chapter. This does not mean that I' not taking suggestions! I am still open for any prompts, kinks, or idea you have for the next chapter! Maybe you can try to come up with an easy one I can do in a short amount of time for Thursday? Until then, Sky.


	8. Day Eight - Mirror, Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I came up with this idea on the fly because of my time issues. I wrote it in about 45 minutes so if it seems rushed, I'm sorry. after tomorrow, I'll come back to doing the longer requests.

I stretch, my joints crack and pop as my arms elongate. I sigh when I’m done, fully aware that the morning has just begun. I get up from my bed, surveying the room I’ve slept in since I was ten. At the base of my bed are my clothes for the day, laid out the night before. I take the clothes and start undress and redress into them. It’s the average outfit, one completed with my favorite white converse. I used to get made fun of for only wearing converse a few years ago, but now everyone in school wears the classic fish heads, chucks, or whatever you call them. I’m glad they came back in style because God knows I can’t afford another pair of everyday shoes. I lace the converse neatly and walk into the bathroom, flipping the light switch.

My reflection immediately shines on me, I yawn and unzip the fly of my jeans to piss. Thankfully my dad is still asleep, if he wasn’t he would have already come in naked and scared me half to death like he does every morning. He had a long night last night, his client finally got the divorced legalized, so my dad took some much needed time off and slept like a baby. My father is a divorce lawyer, probably New Jersey’s worst. The time he doesn’t spend helping clients divorce their unfulfilling partner he spends bothering me first thing in the morning.

I finish my leak and let the toilet flush the contents down. I go to wash my hands, something I’ve been programmed to do since I was a toddler. My mother, a woman suffering with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Schizophrenia, constantly made me wash my hands after every meal, after every playtime, and certainly after every bathroom break. I’m almost positive my father’s laziness is what drove my mother away. But my dad claims because it’s her mental illnesses that she stopped caring about us. I try to push the thought down as I continue to wash my hands. I let the soap lather on my skin and fall into the sink’s drain below. Before leaving, I take a look at myself in the mirror.

I’m ugly, let’s face it. I’m too tall for someone as shy as me, I’m riddled with pimples and freckles, I’m oddly proportioned, and I’m lankly and skinny. No one’s ever called me cute or said they had a crush on me. Expect for one person, but that was … Too odd to mention. I sigh again and take a deeper look at myself in the mirror. If only my face weren’t so ugly, if only I had good skin, if only I had an actual sense of normal human social interactions, maybe then I would be someone. And not just another faceless, ugly boy in a sea of handsome, known ones.

“You’re right, you are ugly,” the mirror spoke.

I sigh and quickly turn the light off before I begin drying my hands. Not today. I don’t need this today.

“What are you hiding from? Scared of me?” It spoke again.

It’s always been awkward having your reflection speak to you. It can say the worst things you would never dare say out loud. But here it is, speaking in my voice, using Mid-Atlantic accent, and ruining my life. I finish drying my hands as fast as humanly possible and make a mad dash for the door.

“Don’t go, mini-me! I asked you a question. Are you scared of me?”

“I’m scared of you driving me insane one day,” I state.

“One day? Don’t you get it? You’re already nuts!” It laughs.

I go to open the door again. I just want it to stop tormenting me every chance it gets. It’s been like this since I was twelve, doesn’t it ever end?

“Jeremy,” the mirror singsongs, “You can’t hide from me.”

“Yeah, and why not?”

“Because,” the mirror states simply, “Mental illness runs in the family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still taking suggestions! This week is being a little crazy for me right now so please bare with me those of you who are desperate for your longer requests to be done! Things should go back to normal this weekend, I hope tomorrow's entry is somewhat decent. Maybe you can come up with a quick idea for me to do in under 30 minutes? Until then, Sky.


	9. Day Nine - Conflict with Elephants (Melissa's chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy receives a certain kind of lingerie from his boyfriend Michael. And not the kind he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to TrashyPan for their prompt about lingerie. I'm one hundred percent sure this is not what you had in mind but well...let's chalk it up to creative liberties.
> 
> Also! If you notice the writing style is different that's because it is. I'm Melissa. (Hi Melissa) Sky asked me to write something for her so that no one was disappointed and thought she died. Enjoy!

Now, Jeremy was aware that he may have possibly mentioned to Michael that he wanted to try some male lingerie.  
'But this?' Jeremy thought as he looked down at the elephant nose where his dick should be.  
"Babe, come on out. I really can't wait to see what it looks like on you!" Michael called from outside of their bathroom  
Jeremy was hesitant. This was not, by any means, what he had in mind.  
"Uhh...I'm not sure it fits," Jeremy stalled, adjusting the monstrosity-the piece of clothing not his dick- in the mirror. He did not want Michael to see him in this. He knew that he wouldn't hear the end of it for months, possibly years. And if by some chance Michael did find it sexy, what did it say about him? Did Jeremy somehow manage to get with the only man in the world that had a serious kink for elephants?  
"Jer, I know you love a dramatic entrance but i'm seriously as anxious as I can get to see how hot you look in this." Michael said after waiting for what seemed like two seconds.  
"I'm just uh...trying to get ready?" Jeremy replied as a question, regretting the moment the words left his mouth as he considered how Michael might take that comment. What if he assumed that Jeremy was trying to...get it up...Would he laugh? Ask if he needed a Viagra? He thought he might honestly, after seeing how seriously unappealing and slightly comical he felt. Michael had one thing right though, the thong was hot, a hot mess.  
"Jer, you have about five seconds before I barge in there and make you come out." At this comment from Michael Jeremy began to pace. He commonly over thought these things but he tried to work up the courage to open the door and step out in all his glory. If anything, he figured, the only thing more embarrassing than wearing the thong was accidentally 'poking' Michael with the elephant trunk on it.  
"Here i come" Jeremy mumbled under his breath as he began to turn the door knob.  
He poked his head out first. Of course seeing Michael standing right outside, waiting expectantly. Jeremy smirked a little as he saw that Michael was tapping his foot. He guessed that he did enjoy 'making an entrance' as Michael put it earlier.  
"Jer,you're teasing me," Michael groaned as he saw Jeremy slowly inching his way out, revealing his body one millimeter at a time.  
At this, Jeremy took a deep breath, looked down at every last inch of his elephant thong, acutely aware of the flimsy string between his cheeks and how the googly eyes above it's trunk only added to the hilarity. Finally he took two steps out of the bathroom.  
One minute passed. Then two. Jeremy shifted from one foot to the other, his head down.  
It felt like an eternity before Michael broke the silence with a muffled bark of laughter. As if he was covering the sound, trying to stop it from escaping his mouth.  
Jeremy figured he might as well of dropped a bomb into their house and a blush bloomed all over his face.  
"I knew I shouldn't have come out," He said quietly, both to himself and Michael.  
"No, Jer, I'm not laughing at you." Michael said at hearing this.  
"Yes you are.."  
"No, Jeremy, baby, please, I'm laughing because I gave you the wrong bag," He felt like an asshole seeing Jeremy with his face all red and he could imagine the tears that were most likely welling up in Jeremy's eyes despite not being able to see them. Michael couldn't believe he had given Jeremy the joke gift he had planned for Christmas instead.  
"...what," Jeremy looked up at Michael. Quickly turning from ashamed and insecure to just embarrassed. How could he have doubted his boyfriends' taste like that. Of course, it was a mix up. Michael wasn't the most fashionable guy in the world but he wasn't blind either. Surely he could tell how ridiculous this was.  
A bright flash brought Jeremy out of his thoughts.  
"Did..you just take a picture," He glared playfully at Michael though he still wasn't all that happy about it.  
"Oh yeah," Michael laughed, "Definitely one for the Christmas cards."  
Jeremy gasped and lunged for Michael, "No way in hell are you sending that to my mother!"  
This only made Michael laugh more. And as they continued to wrestle around, Jeremy couldn't help but think that maybe the elephant thong wasn't the worst idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, It was a blast. Suggestions and prompts are always welcome and next time it'll most likely be Sky again. So stay tuned.  
> Till next time, Melissa


	10. Day Ten - Gangbang Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week and days of constant questions about it, I finally finished the second part of the Gangbang chapter! This chapter's prompt was originally posted by Nymm_at_Night.

It Rich who makes the first moves on Jeremy. His dick throbs at the sight of a naked boy. He lets Jeremy suck his dick first, the others watching in awe and awkwardness. Although Jeremy wanted this, no one’s ever done anything like this before. Voyeurism is new to pretty much everyone in the room besides Connor, who’s only ever watched a girl and a guy have sex once at a party three years ago. Rich takes his time with Jeremy, letting the boy use his mouth in any way he pleases. After mouth-fucking Jeremy for a few minutes, Jake moves in on him with his cock in hand. Rich moves aside to allow Jake to double penetrate Jeremy’s mouth while Michael and Connor watch as they absentmindedly stroke their own dicks.

At this point, everyone’s somewhat naked and all of them are hard. Jeremy moans beneath the two men as they continue to slip their dicks in and out of his open mouth. Every once in a while, the two will push in at the same time, causing Jeremy to have to take them both down at once. This catches him off guard and he chokes on the excess spit sitting in his mouth. Michael catches his breath when he hears Jeremy choke. He’s heard the sound so many times before, so why now was it affecting him? He tried to calm his breathing while Rich and Jake kept getting the double blowjob from his boyfriend.

Soon, Rich slips out his dick and laughs while staring at his member that’s glistening with spit. Jake follows suit, too only moments later. Both of their dicks are upright and covered in spit.

“Why did we stop?” Jake asks.

“Don’t be thtupid, thtupid!” Rich says, “We can’t jutht finithh now. We haven’t even fucked him yet.”

All the boys immediately look at Jeremy, his mouth his half open and half closed, drool dripping down the side of his mouth. He smiles back at them, which is his silent way of telling them to continue. Michael and Connor are up next, they walk to Jeremy’s side as he opens up again. Jeremy tries to hide his smirk when he notices Michael blushing. Its obvious Connor is a little bigger than Michael and Jeremy knows it bothers him somewhat. He opens wide and lets them both slip their dicks inside of his mouth in a similar fashion to when Rich and Jake took their turns. Jeremy gives them the same treatment until Connor pulls out first.

“I can’t go on any longer. And I wanna come inside his ass not his mouth,” Connor states.

Michael quickly pulls out, too. He blushes. Did he say they could come inside of Jeremy? He’s sure Jeremy wouldn’t mind, this is what he wanted after all. But he can’t help but feeling wrong. Jeremy is _his_  boyfriend. And sure, right now he might be everybody’s toy. But at the end of the night, he is going home with Michael. To Michael, there is something very intimate about coming inside another person. He wants to interject but Rich’s words stop him.

“Thit. You’re right. Let’th do thith,’ he lisps.

Jeremy lays on the bed, spreading himself for everyone. The boys all look at each other. Who should go first? Connor tsks as he makes his way over first, but Jake stops him. Before Connor can interject, Jake pushes three fingers inside Jeremy’s mouth.

“Suck on them or this will hurt,” Jake warns.

Jeremy obeys and begins to suck on the digits. When Jake thinks he’s lathered them enough with spit, he pulls them out and aligns them with Jeremy’s hole. Michael watches, mesmerized but also terrified. This is his boyfriend, for Christ’s sake! He didn’t think this would be hard. But watching Jeremy get fucked around by other men isn’t an easy thing to witness. He gulps but nothing but dried spit makes its way down his throat.

Jake’s fingers are a thing of wonders to Jeremy. He moans beneath him as he’s scissored with the digits. Connor reaches over to grab Jeremy’s member and start stroking it while also masturbating himself. Jake’s fingers dig deeper as Rich makes his way across the bed to straddle Jeremy’s chest. His dick hits the side of Jeremy’s face. He forces his way into Jeremy’s mouth and begins riding his face. It’s pure ecstasy to Jeremy. Being manhandled by three men. He wants to think but sex clouds his mind. He knows something is missing but he can’t put his finger on it. But before he can decide on what exactly is missing, his mind is fogged entirely with arousal. Jake’s fingers hit right on his prostate at the same time that Connor strokes particularly hard on his dick. He moans around Rich’s cock, the arousal almost too much for him.

Michael is still two feet away on the other side of the bed, just watching as his boyfriend is fucked ruthlessly by three of his closest friends. It’s hot but also _horrible_. Shouldn’t only boyfriends do that sort of thing? He knows Jeremy wants this, but this is excessive. So many men fucking him at once is kind of merciless. He feels like he’s watching rape fantasy porn. If he knew how jealous he was going to be, he wouldn’t have agreed. That’s a lie, he still would’ve said yes. He would do anything Jeremy wants but this is almost crossing the line. He wants to leave, but he can’t leave on his boyfriends’ birthday. He sticks to masturbating on the other side of the bed.

From two feet away, Jeremy moans like the whore he’s always wanted to be. It’s not until Jake and Connor switch positions. Instead this time Connor decides to fuck Jeremy. He’s being pulled from the bed by Connor as his dick is pushed roughly inside of him. He cries out, thankful Rich has pulled away from his mouth and began to masturbate. He’s almost sure he would’ve chomped down on Rich’s dick if he hadn’t. Jake starts to slowly, almost at a teasing pace, jerk Jeremy off while he’s fucked by Connor. It doesn’t take long for Connor to come inside of him, his grunt sounding off the hotel walls. Jeremy hopes everyone next door and down the hall can hear. He wants people to know that a bunch of guys are fucking him right now. Although he should feel dirty for wanting it, he doesn’t. Connor pulls out, motioning to Rich. Rich fucks him next, then Jake. After both have thoroughly fucked Jeremy, they each walk off into the bathroom to wash off and leave him to wallow in come and sweat.

Jeremy thinks this is the best night of his life. He just got fucked by. Wait. He slowly, with the little strength he has left, turns his head to the right. Michael is sitting still on the other side of the bed.

“Mikey?” Jeremy tries to say.

Michael turns his head around, meeting Jeremy’s eyes. Fuck, he looks so tired. He wants to let him sleep and talk about it in the morning but he knows Jeremy too well. Now that Jeremy’s seen Michael get upset, he’s not going to let him sleep until he talks it out. It takes Rich, Jake and Connor fifteen minutes to wash up and leave. Michael waves as they leave the bedroom and presumably the hotel. All of them are giddy as they walk away, laughing down the hall.

Michael has already taken the job of cleaning Jeremy up, wiping come and sweat off of his tired body. With a baby cloth in hand, Michael makes an effort to effectively clean Jeremy without hauling him to the bathroom. They can both get showers before they leave in the morning. As Michael cleans him, Jeremy wonders why Michael didn’t fuck him. Does he think Jeremy’s a filthy whore? Does he want to break up now that’s seen him so aroused by other guys? Does he think he’s seeing one of them behind his back? Jeremy starts to cry as Michael goes to toss out the dirtied cloth.

“B-Baby?” Michael asks.

Michael rushes to Jeremy’s side of the bed, lifting his head in his hands. He begins to wipe away tears that Jeremy’s cried. Why would he cry like this? Did he not want it? Did he have a bruise? Michael’s read about people coming down from subspace can sometimes be unpredictable.

“What’s wrong?”

“You hate me,” Jeremy responds.

Michael’s eyes widen. Now he knows Jeremy noticed he wasn’t enjoying the event. Tears spring to his eyes. He doesn’t want to admit he didn’t like it, not when Jeremy loved it so much.

“I don’t hate you and I never will. I was just …,” Michael drifts off.

Jeremy stops. Then, he smiles.

“What?” Michael asks, not liking the mocking smile on his boyfriends face.

“You’re jealous.”

Michael blushes, “Okay, yeah. A little.”

‘Do … Do you not like it when other guys are on me?” Jeremy asks.

“O-Of course I don’t!” Michael admits, “I love you so much. I don’t know … It felt like they were taking you away from me.”

Jeremy shakes his head and giggles. Michael takes this opportunity to lay in bed next to him, getting them both wrapped under the covers. Jeremy keeps laughing and Michael can’t help but ask what exactly is so funny.

“Never gonna leave you, Mikey. You’re stupid for even thinkin’ that, …” Jeremy says.

With that, Jeremy drifts off to sleep. Michael smiles as Jeremy’s head falls onto his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still taking suggestions! Hello everyone, thank you all for being paitent and waiting for my return. Thankfully my best friend Melissa took my place yesterday and wrote such a great chapter. You guys really seemed to love it! Maybe she'll get an Ao3 sometime soon? Until tomorrow, Sky.


	11. Day Eleven - Ghost Fic Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for supporting me through my mini break once again. This is an original prompt since I've been in the mood to write about ghosts lately and the idea of a cute little ghost Michael is adorable.

According to everyone I’ve ever met in my life, I died November 2nd 2017 at 7:27 am. According to Michael, my life was only beginning.

~

It all began in September, a week into my junior year of high school. Junior year is weird because you’re much more experienced then the underclassmen but you’re not quite done high school yet. There’s still so much you haven’t done. Like prom, ring ceremony, and class trips. But God, are you ready to get out of there. That’s why on September 6th, I _really_  didn’t want to go to school. Sure it was my second day and it’s probably important to go to school at least every once in a while. But I couldn’t have cared less about attendance. I’m pretty sure the first day emotionally and physically drained me. I could barely hoist myself up from the bed.

Once I successfully sat up, after a long inner turmoil with myself, I could finally begin getting ready for the second day of my junior year. Only 179 more to go. I yawned as I stretched. My arms felt so heavy from carrying so many books yesterday they could hardly perform a normal stretch. Great, even my stretches are half-assed. I checked the time on my phone, pulling it from its charger. 6:56 am, it read with my grey and blue background. The light nearly burned my eyes out. I slipped from bed and started to get ready. It was unusually cold for a September morning. I checked my phone again to see the tempertature, remembering to turn the brightness down.

It was only 64 degrees outside, my phone also told me it was about 17 degrees for those who use metric. Obviously, it’s way too nice out for my room to be that cold. I shrugged and saluanted over to my closet, going to pull out a shirt for the day. As my hand reached through the dark threshold to search for a top, a riveting chill ran through my body. The closet was absolutely freezing. I stepped back to take a look at my closet. Everything appeared fine. Why was it so unusually cold? As I reached back in to retrieve a shirt, a voice started behind me.

“ _Mary, Mary, quite contrary. How does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row._ ”

I leapt into the closet. I tripped and used the wall indent as a rail. Did someone just fucking sing Mary, Mary in my room? It defiantly was not my dad, so who could it be? I peeked my head around the closets threshold.

“He-Hello?” I asked to no one in particular.

I slowly peel away from the closet, my hands clamped because I was so nervous. Before I could take a hesitant step, I’m being pulled by the shoulder. I spun away, flailing my hands in front of me in hopes of stopping whoever it was. I fall in my attempts, landing hard on my carpeted floor. I looked up, seeing nothing but a pair of dark feet standing in front of me.

 _‘I’m definitely going to die right now. I mean, it’s sort of cool. I had an okay life. I never got to feel a tit or go to Comic Con, which sucks. But hey, at least I was never poor, right?_ ’ I thought as I awaited to be murdered in my own room. But nothing happened. I opened one eye, checking to see if my murderer had decided on how to kill me yet. Instead, I saw another pair of eyes staring back at mine. I went to scream, but a hand stops me.

“You can see me?” The intruder asked.

What kind of fucking question was that? I didn’t say this but nodded anyway. He seemed pleased. He leaned in closer to whisper.

“Okay. I’m going to move my hand but you have to stay quiet. I won’t hurt you.”

With that, he pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a deep breath. What the literal fuck was going on here? I looked at the intruder, he was wearing a brown tailored top. The color almost matched that of his actual skin color. His pants were a darker brown, tailored to profession. Oddly enough, he was bare foot despite the exquisite outfit. His hair was combed neatly back, black locks firmly kept in place by whatever gel he used.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room? And why are you bare foot?” I asked.

He seemed taken aback by my questions. It took him a long moment to respond, almost like he was figuring out his words before he spoke. Perhaps he was practicing them in his head. Finally, he replied.

“Are you Jeremy?”

“You don’t answer someone’s question with another question!” I said.

“Why not?” He asked.

‘ _There’s something seriously wrong with this guy,_ ’ I thought to myself. He kept quiet. I wanted answers, so I sighed and gave in.

“Yeah, I’m Jeremy. Now can you tell me what you’re doing here?”

He nodded and again decided to stay silent. It was getting uncomfortable sitting on the floor, so I got up and walked towards the door of my room. I pointed to it, struggling to stand this kid a minute longer.

“Just get out. I won’t tell my dad you were here. If you leave soon, he won’t see you.”

“Leave?” He asked.

“Are you fucking crazy? Who dropped you on your head? Just get out of my house before I call the police, dude,” I stated.

‘Who does this kid think he is?’

“Is this your house now? I used to live here, too.”

“Holy fuck,” I sighed, “I don’t care. Just get out before my dad kills you.”

“Haha,” the boy laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Well,” he started, “Your dad is a little late.”

~

“Soooo, you’re telling me you’re dead and you used to live here before you died?” I asked again.

“For the third time, _yes_. I know you live here now because I see you all the time. This room used to be the parlor.”

“The what?” I questioned.

“The parlor. It’s where you sit down and chat with guests, usually a casual area,” he replied.

“Oh, so like a living room?”

“I guess,” he said.

I sighed. I was going nowhere fast with this kid. It was already nearing 8 in the morning. I was late for school but it's not like I planned on going anyway. Besides, I'm sure once I tell my teacher I spent my second day of school talking to a dead kid, she'll totally understand. 

“Wait, why would you have a living room on the second story?”

“Are you referring to a den? Those are different.”

I scoffed, “What the fuck’s the difference?”

“You say that a lot.”

“Say what?”

“‘Fuck’. It’s very improper of a boy so young,” he stated.

“If you weren’t already dead, I would strangle you. You’re so annoying!”

“I might have heard that a few times,” he smiled.

And that was the start of my daily life with a ghost boy named Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! I love hearing from you guys and I love getting requests. I hope you enjoyed today's fun little dialogue heavy chapter. I wanted to give myself a break today from writing so much and write something fun and easy. Keep sending in suggestions! Until then, Sky.


	12. Day Twelve - Angry Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter prompt was by StormBerryMC. Thank you for the wonderful idea! It was also inspired by The Beatles song Dear Prudence. I recommend listening to both Back in the U.S.S.R and Dear Prudence while you read today's chapter.

Jeremy storms into the basement, running down the concrete steps. If he lived there he would slam the basement door but he doesn’t want to disturb Mrs.Mell’s afternoon nap. He instead huffs once he reaches the room at the bottom of the stairs and he doesn’t bother to knock. He ignores Michael’s warning signs reading ‘KEEP OUT’ and ‘LIVING IN A GAMER’S PARADISE’, a sign Jeremy got him as a gag gift three Christmas’s ago that he’s surprised he still even keeps up. He forces himself into Michael’s room, fists clenched in anger and confusion.

“What the fuck, Micah?” He spats at Michael.

Michael, who is sitting on the floor of his room, looks up at his friend. His face turns from somber to confusion in a heartbeat. He scrabbles off the floor and stands awkwardly in front of Jeremy, his best friend since elementary school. Michael’s happy that Jeremy is over and he’s even more elated that he used his childhood nickname. But Jeremy never usually looks this angry, even when he’s upset with his dad.

“What?” He asks, not sure if he should be looking at him or not.

Jeremy only huffs again. Figures he would play stupid. He crosses his arms, standing defiantly in front of Michael. He wants him to just admit to it so they can talk it out. Jeremy couldn’t believe it when he heard the news. Jenna Roland, the girl with the biggest mouth in school, had been telling everyone she knew there was some kid at Jake’s Halloween party who locked himself in the bathroom and cried for hours. I was the last person to talk to Michael at that party and that was in the bathroom, right where Jenna said she heard someone sobbing.

“The party,” he simply states.

Michael’s face falls. He really didn’t want to think about that party. Most people would question how he knew which party he was talking about. But Jeremy knew Michael well enough to know that Jake’s Halloween party was the only party he’s ever been to. He turns away from Jeremy, face flushing with embarrassment. Why talk about this now? All Michael wants to do is forget that night ever happened.

“Michael. We need to talk,” Jeremy says.

Michael walks away, towards his vintage record player. His mother got him it for Christmas along with several records she knew he’d like. Since then, Michael’s been avid on collecting as many as possible. He sighs as he reaches under the wooden end table to retrieve a record. He’s really just randomly picking. He doesn’t care what he listens to as long as it can drown the sound of Jeremy’s protests and make him forget about that damn party.

Michael sorts through his collection and selects an album at random. He chooses The Beatles White Album, a classic. It’s actually one his mom got him as a surprise. He hides a smile as he slides the record out and places it carefully on the player’s turntable. After putting the stylus directly on the record, he slowly closes the lid. All the while, he can still hear Jeremy’s angered sighs and huffs. He turns around to face his best friend. The first song ‘Back in the U.S.S.R’ begins to play.

“Playing music isn’t going to make me go away.”

“I dunno … It could,” Michael deadpans.

He goes to sit on the bottom bunk of his bed, his sheets are a mess from his earlier nap. Jeremy rushes over to sit with him, his face still shrouded in anger. Michael smiles, the situation might still be awkward as all Hell, but at least he can enjoy one of his favorite albums. He hums along to the first chorus of the song, ‘I’m back in the U.S.S.R! You don’t know how lucky you are, boys.’

Jeremy ends up smiling, too. Him and Michael used to listen to jam to this album when they were younger. This particular song was always funny to Jeremy because the U.S.S.R was disbanded in the 70s and it is funny to image someone calling Russia, a country we’ve all come to know, the Soviet Union. Jeremy glances at Michael, who’s already started to hum along to the song. Jeremy joins, mouthing the words to the second verse.

“Why, Micah?” Jeremy asks after a while of silently listening to the song.

Michael shrugs, “It’s not important anymore. We’re friends now, right?”

Jeremy shakes his head. The song reaches its climax, John yelling over and over ‘Back in the U.S – Back in the U.S – Back in the U.S.S.R!’

“It is important. It’s what I said, isn’t it? About you being a loser? I’m sorry Michael, I don’t ever want to make you feel like that again. I know it’s my fault and I – “

“Jeremy,” Michael interrupts, “Why are you so mad if you know it’s your fault?”

“I’m angry at myself, Micah! And I’m also a little mad at you …”

The song changes to Michael’s favorite ‘Dear Prudence’. Paul’s soft voice echo’s the meaningful melody while Michael looks down at the floor. ‘Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play? Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day.’

“I just,” Jeremy starts, “Why wouldn’t tell me you were so upset?”

“Because I,” Michae tries to say.

He can’t tell Jeremy now. It’s all too much. He came here to get answers, not be confessed to. Michael looks away from his best friend, he can’t look at Jeremy or else he’ll blush. The lyrics aren’t helping any either. The song goes on to belt, ‘Dear Prudence, let me see you smile. Dear Prudence, like a little child.’

Michael slowly looks up at Jeremy, who is staring at him intently. Their eyes meet and Michael can’t seem to look away, not when he’s being stared at so … Lovingly?

“Je –“ He starts.

But he’s cut off. Everything together, the emotion, the climax of the song. The drums band loudly over the record player while The Beatles start to yell together, ‘The sky is up, the sky is blue. It’s beautiful and so are you, dear Prudence.’ He’s stopped in speech while Jeremy laches on to his lips. Their lips collide as the melody begins to fade. All that can be heard is the soft strumming of the guitar and the lyrics,

‘Won’t you come out to play?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! I've been feeling a lot better lately when it comes to mental health issues, I'm so happy you guuys have decided to stick around. We're almost half way to the end! And today marks the day I acheived my word goal! 15k! Thank you all so much for supporting me and encouraging me to write more!


	13. Day Thirteen - Imaginary Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from the depths of my own brain, haha!

I have been given the name Michael by my best friend Jeremy. I am Jeremy’s best friend and have been since he was four years old. My best friend has a very good life. He’s well taken care of by his family and he gets good grades in school. And he’s usually happy, except for when he’s not. Sometimes, he cries. Like when he got yelled at in school for bringing his Gameboy to class. There was also the time his pet hamster died. But I was there every time he cried to comfort him. He would only cry for a little bit and then we would play for hours. My best friend also doesn’t talk much which is fine by me since I talk plenty to him.

Me and Jeremy are inseparable, we play together every day. I even help Jeremy with his homework when it’s too tough. Jeremy always makes sure he works fast so he can play with me until dinner time. I don’t usually spend dinner time with Jeremy because I know it’s more of a family event. I do like to watch, though. I like to watch Jeremy talk about his day to his parents, although I’ve already heard it. Most of the times, he leaves out information when he talks to them. And I know it’s because he doesn’t want them to get angry at him again.

Jeremy’s parents don’t like me too much. They used to, but they don’t anymore. When Jeremy was little, he used to tell his parents all about me. About my dark hair and brown skin, my funny glasses and headphones. His parents thought it was sweet he was finally making a friend. But as time went on, they started appreciating me less and less. Once last year, when Jeremy was eight, he mentioned me to his mother. His mother, who has never been mean to Jeremy once since I’ve known him, actually yelled at him. She told him he shouldn’t have an imaginary friend anymore, and that he was too old to be playing with someone who isn’t real. His father chimed in, adding that he wished Jeremy had a _real_ friend.

That was the first day that I realized other people couldn’t see me and that I was not real. I certainly felt real, which had me confused for so long. I had wondered why I didn’t have parents like Jeremy does and why I wasn’t going to school. His parents had fed into his imaginary friend for so long I didn’t know they were doing it all as a joke. They didn’t actually think I existed. All the times Jeremy’s mom would lay out another plate for me at breakfast or when she would ask Jeremy if I had buckled in my seatbelt before driving in the car. Even his father played along, pretending to teach me how to play baseball with him. I didn’t know it was all a lie.

That night, I asked Jeremy sincerely if he knew I wasn’t real. He nodded and said he did but that he didn’t think it would matter that much to me. I didn’t know how to tell him that it did bother me, so I didn’t. I let Jeremy believe I was okay so I could protect my best friend. I try to keep that memory away, even now when it was so long ago. Today Jeremy is nine years old. I already congratulated him this morning but I made it very obvious everywhere we went that I was so excited for him. Today after school he is having a party. His mother stated that her friend is bringing her son over to play.

I was worried about that. The way she said it made me think she wanted Jeremy to play with a real boy. Jeremy’s never had a real friend before besides me. I think that’s why he created me when he was little. He didn’t have any other friends, which is fine by me. I like being Jeremy’s only friend, it’s not like if he had other friends they could see me. Me and Jeremy walk into his bedroom, school has ended and he’s beginning to do his homework. I look over his shoulder to see he’s started working on his math homework and I know that today they started to learn about fractions.

Jeremy’s mother calls him into the room only a half hour later. We both dash out the bedroom door and Jeremy goes to stand in front of his mother. There’s an unfamiliar woman standing next to her and an even more unfamiliar boy hiding behind her leg. She tugs at the boy’s shirt and gestures to Jeremy. The boy appears out of his mother’s legs. Jeremy cranes his neck to get a better view of the boy, I do the same. He’s small and has brown hair and a stubby nose. His mother tugs again at his shirt and the boy nods.

“H-H-Hi. I-I’m Rich. N-N-Nice to meet y-you,” he stammers.

His mother bends down to meet the boy’s at eye level. She holds Rich’s hand tight and smiles in Jeremy’s direction.

“This is my son Rich. He doesn’t many friends either and your mother and I thought it would be nice for you to meet each other. He’s here for your birthday party, too. Happy birthday, sweetie,” she insisted.

Jeremy nods and holds out his hand for Rich to take. The boy does and they proceed into his bedroom. I walk in, too. Jeremy goes back to his homework while the intruder stands awkwardly on the floor. I look him up and down. He seems nice but something about him is bad to me. I don’t want him to play with Jeremy. Jeremy is quietly doing his homework when Rich behind him starts to stammer again.

“D-D-Don’t you w-wanna play? It’th your bir-birthday, let’th play a game.”

Jeremy spins around in his chair, he looks confused and little scared. Hopefully he doesn’t want to play with Rich so we can play instead. He places his pencil on the desk and nods, moving to the toy chest. Rich follows suit, crossing the room timidly. Jeremy pulls out his G.I. Joe figures and holds them up to Rich. The boy’s eyes gleam.

“You p-play with G.I. Joe’th, too?” Rich asks.

Jeremy nods again and smiles, he pulls a few more figures out and the two begin to play. I sit on Jeremy’s bed, watching my best friend play with this new boy. I hate him. He’s ugly and talks funny, like he has something stuck in his throat. He can’t say his ‘S’s right and he has a stupid mom. I hate everything about him, I sigh as I lay down on the bed. It’s not long until I hear Jeremy’s mother call them in for dinner and cake. But Jeremy and Rich don’t hear her. She comes in, smiling when she notices them engrossed in their game of make believe with the G.I. Joe figures.

“You two ready for the party?” His mother asks.

The boys nod and make a mad dash for the dining room. I follow behind, lagging as I take my usual spot on the wall to watch the mini-party. Rich practically begs Jeremy’s father for him to sit next to him. His father allows it and moves a chair from the closet right next to Jeremy’s seat. He seems to be overexcited like his wife about Jeremy’s new friend. A friend who is alive and real and isn’t me. I watch the party unfold as Rich and Jeremy giggle and the parents joke about their own childhoods and birthdays just like this one.

“Except,” Jeremy’s mother says, “This birthday … is very special.”

She smiles at Jeremy and Jeremy looks at her funny. It seems to be a joke only the adults understand. They all laugh and go on about work or other. But I know exactly what she means. She means it’s special to her because Jeremy finally has a real friend and isn’t stuck inside his room playing with a fake boy he made up. The cake is next after dinner, everyone is excited as Jeremy sits up in his chair. Rich and his mother smile as the Heere’s bring their son his cake. The lights are dimmed by Jeremy’s father and they all being to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.

Once the song is over, they all clap. But something feels funny inside my stomach. I’m not sure why because I’ve never felt much of anything before now. I look away from the scene and notice my body. I’m fading away! My body is slowly disappearing! My stomach is just about to be gone when I look up at Jeremy. My only best friend who created me. The only person I’ve ever gotten to know, is letting me disappear. He’s forgetting about me! If I could cry, I would. So, I sigh as I slowly fade from Jeremy’s mind and his life. I want to scream and be angry, but it would all be for not. He finally has a friend.

I’m sure he can live without me. It’s my last thought before it reaches my head and I’m forever forgotten in Jeremy’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Hopefully this chapter didn't make you upset. I just love writing these sad stories so much!


	14. Day Fourteen - Gone together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter that came from my mind.

Every night, you visit me. Sometimes in dreams. Most times in nightmares.

I haven’t been able to dream of anything other than you since you were gone. The first night was a mild lucid dream. I saw you, standing in the window of that store. The store you wanted to go to. I could move on my own and knew this was just a dream. I couldn’t have actually been by your side.

You walked the length of the window, I crossed the street. It seemed with every step I took, your pacing only got more and more impatient. I couldn’t tell what exactly you were waiting for. I thought that maybe, you were waiting for me. Like you were that day you left. So, I yelled your name.

“Jeremy!”

It came out more like a whisper, but you still looked up. Your face was the same as it’s always been: Beautiful and riddled with pimples. You didn’t smile, you didn’t frown. I couldn’t make out your expression at all. You only stared.

I started to run across the street, trying my best to reach you. You kept your straight face the entire time. I wanted you to say something, to change your expression. I kept running and running across the street, when I thought the street was going to end, it just kept going. It expanded into this never ending crosswalk I was forced to run for eternity.

I knew that this would be my punishment. I was content on living life this way. If this is what I had to do to repent my sins, so be it. But I woke up. I dreamt like that for a week, until they turned more hellish. My first nightmare of you was back in the store. We were sitting at a café table, drinking tea. It was peaceful at first, I could smell the aroma of brewed coffee and your shampoo. I thought maybe you were visiting me to say goodbye.

I never did get to say goodbye.

But before I could say a word to you, your face melted away. I was staring at a fleshy, bloodied version of yourself. I wanted to scream or run away or wake up. But I couldn’t make a sound or move at all. The dream ended there. I had nightmares like that for weeks. And have ever since.

It’s been almost three months since you left. I’m sorry for what I did, I hope you understand that it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to be late to our date. I didn’t mean for you to forget where the café was. I didn’t mean to ask you to walk across the street to meet me at the café. I didn’t mean for you to get hit by that truck. I didn’t mean it.

I never meant it, Jeremy.

I’m sorry. I do miss you. But you need to stop seeing me in my dreams.

I don’t want to sleep anymore. I don’t want to dream of you.

It wasn’t my fault. Why are you torturing me? I never meant for this to happen but it did.

And now you’re dead and I’m sorry but it wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault!

You’re driving me crazy! I know it was bad but I didn’t want you to die.

Why are you angry at me, baby? Don’t you love me?

If you love me, then how come you’re torturing me? You scare me every night.

I thought seeing your loved ones when they die are supposed to be comforting. I want to see you again but I want it to be happy. I want to kiss you goodbye. I can’t take being tormented every night.

Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head

I can’t take it anymore, Jeremy. Do you want me to kill myself? Well, you win.

Maybe you want to meet again? Is that why you’re scaring me so bad?

Even if you do hate me and you do blame me for killing you: I’m still doing it.

I’m leaving in a few hours. I drank half of Grandpa’s whiskey and swallowed all of my anxiety and sleeping pills.

I should be gone in a few hours. Maybe less.

Haha, get it? I’ll be gone too, just like you. Maybe we can be gone together.

I’m leaving now. I love you, even if you don’t love me.

Goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys seriously need to do post some more prompts. All of my original ideas are super depressing. Well, I hope you liked it anyway! It's my first take on the second person perspective with a little bit of a twist. Keep sending in suggestions!


	15. Day Fifteen - Celebrity Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This idea was created by the lovely Hella_Bacon_Demon! I love this prompt so much, although I wanted to spin it a little differently.

The large stage lights flicker on and illuminate the stage. I’m shouldered in a blanket of white as hundreds, no thousands, cheer. They scream and cry and yell and clap and laugh. They’re excited to hear me perform. Maybe they’ve been a fan for months, they know my album by heart, and they can recite every word of every music video. Or maybe they’re a bored parent or boyfriend, being forced to attend a concert for a boy who sings about stealing their daughters/girlfriends’ hearts.

I get dizzy when the light moves like lightning across the stage. They’re introducing the band. I smile wide, like I’m supposed to. The crowd is endlessly screaming, they can’t get enough. I hear the band begin the first song of the night. I’m shaking, although this isn’t my first show. What song is first? Why did I forget the set list? I should’ve gone to rehearsal this morning. Wait, no. I couldn’t have gone to rehearsal, I was high out of my mind last night. Another crazy party. I needed to stay in bed or else I would’ve gotten sick in the bus.

The guy on the guitar strums the first chord. I should know his name, but I never bothered to know any of them. The crowd might cheer for them but that’s just because they’re being polite. Me and those guys will never be the same. Sure, we’re all musically talented. But they’re older, wiser. I’m the newly found idol every girl creams themselves over, I’m the shit. Or so every tween thinks. I’m the star of the show, the center of attention. Those guys? They’re just a part of the scene, making pretty music for the pretty boy everyone really wants to see.

The crowd is chanting my name. Well, it’s really my name. It’s my stage name. They’re excited, and they should be. They probably paid a lot to be here. I don’t remember the exact prices for each venue, but I do remember my manager Barbra mentioning it being a little expensive for my demographic. My demographic being little girls who beg their middle class families to go see a two hour long circus where the main star is me. I laugh into the microphone attached to my face. The crowd goes wild.

“How’re you doing tonight?” I say into the microphone.

They scream a response. It makes me wonder for a moment if any of them actually screamed something like ‘Good, thanks for asking. How are you?’  I want to laugh again but know it would look odd, and that’s the last thing I need for my image. I smile instead, showing my perfect teeth. The crowd screams at my perfectness. I spread my arms to begin the first dance number, one of the millions I have permanently imbedded in my brain forever. The crowd gets a good look at my entire form. My perfect hair, perfect body, perfect skin, perfect outfit, perfect everything.

I feel the lights shine back on me. I hide a frown as the first song begins and my mind leaves my body.

The show is over. Thank God, its _over_. I sigh as I wipe the sweat from my outfit backstage in my dressing room. The room is filled with flowers, assorted fruit baskets, and candy. I take a seat on one of the push sofas and relax. At least, I try to relax. Right when I feel the pull of sleep finally coming over me, I’m being yelled at again.

“Mikey Belle? You’re being asked for in Stage Grounds 2,” some girl says.

I sigh as I lean back into the sofa, “Tell them I’m taking a break.”

“You have a meet and greet, sir.”

I get up, fluffing my hair a bit as I walk towards the girl. She’s pretty, petite and redheaded. I’m sure she would be attractive to most boys, but I’m not most boys. I grunt as I forcibly push my past her and set out for the Stage Grounds. I’m freezing back here, it’s almost October and they still air condition these venues like its June. My hair is a mess, having fallen asleep on it and mussed it before arriving. I walk behind the white backdrop and meet my manager half way.

“What the Hell are you doing, Michael?” She half yells, half whispers.

“Hey,” I say, “Watch your tongue, don’t want kids knowing my real name, do we?”

“That’s not the point. The point is that you’re nearly 20 minutes late to a meet and greet! These people paid hundreds to meet you!”

“Look. I’m sorry, Barb. I’ll make it up to you and give you one of the fruit baskets, huh?” I reassure her.

She huffs but doesn’t walk away yet. Under her breath I hear a soft, “Make sure it has peaches, asshole.”

I smile as she walks away to be with her business friends. I walk out behind the white screen and smile my signature smile. I meet my company for the night and for the rest of my damn life: A group of at least four dozen screaming girls.

It takes all of an hour to meet the kids and send them on their way. Hundreds of pictures taken, plenty of crying fangirls, a dozen or so angry moms, and at least three or four kids who were so shy they decided to back out and runaway. I wish they all did that. Not that I’m unappreciative, but I really don’t care about a single one of these people. I’m happy they bought my album and bought a ticket to see my show and meet me. Most of them wearing items from my new merch collection, too. So many of them have already spent so much just for me. But that’s all I’ll ever see these kids as: Money. They’re my lifeline, my life preserver in a sea of millions of other musicians. Without these kids’ money and attention, I’d be nobody. I wouldn’t have sold sixteen million records, I wouldn’t have sold out eleven of my twenty four shows this leg, and I certainly wouldn’t have been forced to spend my time on the East coast full of people I’ve never met before.

The kids leave one by one, some staying after and trying their hand at getting another picture. Thankfully, Barbra and security put a stop to it soon enough. I go to get my things from the dressing room only to find it already emptied. I want to scream at the roadies. I specifically told Barbra I didn’t trust these guys to handle my shit. I told her that no matter how late I am to a meet and greet or a show or a conference, they are /never/ to take my shit without me watching. But I don’t want to seem like the diva I know I’m slowly becoming. The diva half the roadies already think I am. So, I decide to forget it and walk back into the bus. I find pretty much everything laying on my bunk, and thankfully it looks like nothing is missing. I take my stash from the back compartment of one of my duffle bags and head out into the night.

I have my lighter in my jacket pocket thankfully and my bowl in the other. I want to lean against the bus but know when Barbra sees me, she’ll throw a fit. I decide to take a walk down the street, maybe a hundred feet of the venue. I almost forgot what city we were in, it’s in the midst of New Jersey, an already remarkably forgettable state to begin with. It’s not busy although it’s only eleven on a Friday night. I find a secluded enough alley way in-between a closed sub shop and a law office. I sigh and begin assembling my bowl.

Once my pot is ready to be smoked, I light it and take a huge hit. It’s nowhere near enough for me to get high but it’s calming to someone who hasn’t had a decent smoke since the previous night. That was the first thing Barbra asked when we met, if I did any drugs. I saw no reason to lie and said I wasn’t keen on drinking at all but was a definite fan of weed. She laughed at me and smiled. Apparently, that wasn’t what she meant at all. She was worried I was into heavy, hardcore shit like crack or heroine. Thankfully, I wasn’t and I’m still not.

I laugh at my memory, chuckling into my bowl as I huff another hit from it. It’s mildly cold for late September, my hands feel cool around the glass of my pipe. I’m lost in total thought as I take in the sight of New Jersey. It’s not ugly but it certainly is forgettable. I jump when something touches my hand, I whip around to see a boy not much younger than me. It’s dark so I can’t make out facile features but he looks … cute. In a way. I stammer, hiding my bowl and coughing out the smoke I just inhaled.

“Uh, yeah?” I ask.

He just stands there, awkwardly. Like he’s afraid but also isn’t. If it weren’t for his cute face I would’ve totally been creeped out by this kid. I gesture to nothing in the wind, portraying some kind of means of confusion. He just keeps on staring, until a light pops off in his head.

“Ya know, …,” he trails off, “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

I laugh, “What makes it obvious?”

He ponders this for a moment. I take in his words, he sounds different. I’m not sure what kind of accent New Jersians have but on this boy it’s rather cute and quirky. The way his r’s are heavy set and how on some words he doesn’t pronounce the last letter.

“Well, for starters,” he says, “No one wears anything like … that.”

I look down at my outfit. Damnit. I never did change from my stage outfit, I almost go to tell him it’s for my show but why should I tell this kid I’m a celebrity? The less he knows, the better. I smile and shrug, suddenly feeling flirty.

“I don’t usually wear things like this. I’m more ‘in the nude’ kind of guy,” I joke.

The boy giggles. It’s _adorable_. I lean away to hide my blush as he goes on.

“So, tell me about all this. Where do you live? Why come to Brighton, New Jersey?” He asks.

I hum. Now I remember, it is Brighton. Not one of the many shows that had dozens of kids for meet and greets. It didn’t sold out, but almost did. I nod and push my bowl further into my pocket.

“I’m on vacation, I work as a dance choreographer,” I reply.

“A vacation to _New Jersey_?” He questions.

I laugh, “Hey, I mean … Nice view I guess? And my dance clients pay decent money.”

“If it was so decent why not head to somewhere with a little class. Like Atlanta or DC?”

“That, my friend, is where you’re wrong. I like places like this better than known cities because it has this unknown life in it. Atlanta and DC? Garbage places, they only make you come for the aesthetics. But this place, whatever the fuck it’s called, is beautiful without needing to sell its soul to you.”

There’s a long silence. I have no idea what I just said, that was most likely the weed talking. The boy isn’t speaking either, he’s staring off in space. I’m sure I freaked him out a little getting philosophical all of a sudden. He sighs and points to the building in front of us.

“That’s my parents’ law office, they’re lawyers. We don’t make great money but it’s enough. We dream of bigger things, I guess? My dad wanted to be an engineer and design quantum computers. My mom wanted to be a professor. They always talked about leaving New Jersey and moving to a big city and being rich and what not. But since they couldn’t do it themselves, they throw it all on me. Now they want me to follow my dreams and be some famous guy running around LA or something.”

I shallow my weed flavored spit. This poor kid doesn’t know what he’s messing with. I nod and think for a moment. I usually don’t care about letting some kids’ dreams down but this one is different. Sure, maybe I’m being biased because he’s cute and isn’t trying to take a hundred selfies with me and tweet about me moments later. Before I can piece together the words I want to say, he speaks again.

“But, uh …, he stammers, “I don’t want that kind of life. It seems … really sad, I guess? I couldn’t imagine being an actor or a rockstar and always traveling here and there. I wouldn’t feel safe not knowing where I sleep that night, not knowing if my family is okay. Sounds like shit, right?”

“It does sound like shit,” I repeat.

 _‘It is shit’_ , I want to say. I push down the emotion this boy doesn’t even know he’s brought up. I wish I could see my mom again every day. I miss her like crazy, even though I promised her I wouldn’t get homesick. I hate sleeping in bunks on crowded, smelly, always moving busses. I hate meeting I know I’ll never see again. It’s why I hate getting close to fans, it’s what I used to do. Always asking for a few moments more to get to know them. I’d hear their terrible sob stories and want to be their friend. I want to hug them all, really I do. But I figured out that there’s no way I’ll ever meet that girl that said her dad has cancer and doesn’t have much time on this earth again. I’ll never see that girl who’s sister is living on the streets somewhere whoring herself for coke again. I’ll never hear this boy’s laugh ever again.

“Hey, kid,” I say.

He turns around, confusion shrouding his beautiful face. I walk closer to him, closing the gap we’ve made in the drifting conversation.

“Can I, uh. Get your number? Not in like a sexual way or anything but I … I don’t have time now, but I want to talk to you again.”

He nods and starts repeating his number as I dial it into my phone.

“It’s Jeremy,” he says.

“Michael,” I respond.

I finish punching the number. My hands are rigid against the screen as I see the time, I’m late for the bus departure. It’s not like they’ll leave without me, but boy is Barbra going to be pissed. I say goodbye to Jeremy and begin walking away. I hit the call button to ensure I have his number saved. I place the phone against my ear, I’m only a good few yards away so I know I’ll be able to hear it ring. I think I hear the beginning of a very familiar tune. I stop in my tracks and spin around. We’re both dumbfounded. Him, holding his phone out like it’s a poison, and me staring like an idiot at him.

I hear his ringtone loud and clear now, _it’s my song_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! A lot of time and love went into this chapter, I couldn't stop once I saw the suggestion! Hopefully you liked it, it's little bit reminscent of my Throam phase haha. Don't forget to keep sending in suggestions for a prompt or kink or idea you want to see next. Until then, Sky.


	16. Day Sixteen - Sexting Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to empressoffire for today's prompt!

I’m not entirely sure how or why.

But there’s definitely a penis in my fucking messages. It’s been sent from an unknown number, I tried calling at least a dozen times but there was no answer. I’m in class, Mr.Heeley’s class actually. When all of a fucking sudden, I get a random dick picture on my texting app. I usually like dick pics, believe it or not. I like being a bit of a slut for someone, asking for a dirty picture and sending dozens in return. But this shit? In the middle of class? Not okay.

My dick is a lot more aware of its surroundings now. Thankfully I’m seated further in the back, where I’m sure he won’t notice me looking at my phone. Not that he cares, he’s usually too busy playing movies and making us take meaningless notes to notice most of anything. I decide to message the person back:

**Um? Who are u?**

I stare at the screen for a while, waiting for whoever to respond. I hear a kid snore from the front of the room. I stare at the student and debate going to sleep myself, when I get a message.

**A person**

I roll my eyes, of course I get the stereotypical fuckboy answer. I almost decide not to reply but go against myself and do anyway.

**Why the dick pic? U kno Im a boy right?**

The next response is immediate:

 **I** **kno, Mikey.**

Now, it all makes sense. This kid must have found my number in my ad on craigslist. That I most definitely wrote like three months ago. I always use the alias Mikey so people don’t immediately draw a connection to me. Although, I’m pretty sure no one’s ever called me out on being a total slut. Which I most definitely am. So, yeah. I like to be fucked and fuck guys. I like to get dick pics from men I don’t know. I decide to take this one by the balls. I haven’t had a proper fuck in at least a week. I open my phone back up to respond:

**hey ;) nice dic there lol**

Within a few moments, I get a text:

**It would look prettier inside u**

Well, Jesus fucking Christ. That’s enough to get me half hard in class. I sigh as I reply:

**oh rlly? Any more pics?**

**Not good enough for you? How about this one?**

My eyebrows furrow until another text comes. It’s his dick again, this time … Is he? _In class?_ The background shows the front side of a desk and tile flooring. So he’s in class … sending me nudes? I can’t help but feel a little aroused by the act. This mother fucker whipped his dick out in class for a nude. Incredible.

**U took that in class? Hot**

**Only for u ;)**

My cheeks flush with color as I read our conversation. Jesus Christ, this kid is a player.

**I would send some but im not that brave :(**

**You should try it bb**

Does this kid seriously want me to just pull out my dick ten feet away from Mr.Heeley? I would absolutely die if I got caught. I would never come to school again. But God the thought arouses me. Could I do that? Should I do that? I contemplate the idea. I mean, worst comes to worst, I’m expelled. Best outcome, I get spank bank material for years. It’s tantalizing, but I still don’t know this guy at all.

**I don’t kno you. Do u go to Middle Borough?**

**yes. Lets meet in hall 2 br?**

No fucking way. No way, no way, no way.

**Yeah sure**

What am I doing? Why do my feet guide me to Mr.Heeley’s desk and why do I ask for a pass? Why does he let me go? Why do I leave the classroom and head for second hall? Why am I currently standing outside the second hall bathroom door, looking like an idiot? I look down at my pass and sigh. I got this at 12:24, I got the kid’s text at 12:22. It’s now, according to my phone, 12:28.

How long is this boy going to take? I almost go to leave when I hear someone coming out of the stall. I turn towards them and miscalculate my step. I run right into someone. He’s on the floor, holding his head. I crouch down and offer to lift him up, the moment he takes my hand, I see his face.

“Jeremy?”

“M-Michael?” He stutters.

“Are you the one,” I start, “sending me the … the um … “

“O-oh w-w-what me? Pfft, never! You’re my best friend, I would never um … “

I look down at his pants, I can see the outline of his hard member. I look away fast, hoping he didn't notice me looking. 

“How do you know what I’m talking about?” I ask.

Jeremy stammers, “Um … I dunno?”

We sit in silence for a few moments, both of us looking at the floor. There’s no way my best friend has been the one on the phone this entire time. Did I just see Jeremy’s dick? Twice? I mean, it was a nice dick but I don’t want to see my best friend’s dick, right?

“I gotta go, I should be … “Jeremy says before he quickly turns around.

I let him go down the hall and out the main door. I have to admit, Jeremy is cute and it certainly wouldn’t be hard imagining his dick inside me or vice versa. I know we’ll stay friends, but knowing Jeremy, he won’t want to talk about it ever again. We’ll never speak of this again but at least now I have a solid six months’ worth of spank bank material. It’s also going to be a little hard for him to ever call me ‘Mikey’ again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Yesterday's suggestions were amazing! All of them were so fantasy and AU like, I loved it! I hope to write a few of those this weekend when I have the time. Until then, Sky.


	17. Day Seventeen - Non-con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got this chapter from an unfinished chapter of a fiction I wrote a long time ago with a different fandom.

Jeremy cried out from the pain of Michael's rough, tight grasp on his member. Tears threatened to spill from the corner of his eyes. But he couldn't cry while he's being forced to stare at himself. The mirror in Michael's bathroom is big enough for at least 3 people to share. Jeremy was standing a mere 2 feet away from the mirror as Michael yanked at his dick. It throbbed, first with pain and after a few moments, it turned to throbbing pleasure.

Jeremy's tears nearly burst when Michael whispered, "Look at how much you're enjoying this, Jer. I'm sure if your friends were here, they'd mock you just like they did me."

Jeremy tried to turn away, not wanting to hear the rest. But Michael effortlessly smacked the back of his head and grasped at hair on the crook of his neck, pulling his head back. Michael licked the length of Jeremy's neck, making sure not to lick the rough leather material of the collar. The sudden change of Michael's pace and the wet sensation of his tongue made Jeremy moan high and shrill. Like a girl. Jeremy hated it. He wasn't a girl, he's a boy. A boy who likes girls. But if that's so true, then why is he hard right now? Why does Michael's harsh grip on his dick feel so good yet wrong? Jeremy let more tears fall down his pain ridden face. Michael giggled. Always the same damn giggle. He kept licking and sucking at his neck, eventually leaving numerous hickeys.

Jeremy could only stare back at the mirror. He felt disgusting and ugly. Like a girl wouldn't want to be with a boy who moaned like a girl and got hard when another boy groped him. In front of a mirror, no less. It wasn't until then did he let all of the tears stream down his face. He truly did feel ugly and violated. It didn't take much longer for Jeremy to cum into Michael's hand, his voice sounding shrill as he let loose in his attacker's hand.

Jeremy thought it would be over. He thought Michael would lead him with the leash and put in back into the closet's shackles, only to do it again tomorrow. Or whenever he was bored. When would this end? When Jeremy admitted defeat? When Michael gave up on trying to scare him? 

He whispered in Jeremy's ear, "Who’s the faggot now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! I'm so sorry for not making a proper chapter for today, I've been feeling horrible recently. And because of Ao3's update, this chapter is getting to you guys super late! I'm sorry and hopefully I'll feel better and have enough time to write some more prompts because yesterday's ones were all so good! Until then, Sky.


	18. Day Eighteen - Doki Doki Literature Club AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was recommended by the guest account 'trash'. We talked briefly about writing a chapter about this game for the NaNoWriMo. However! If you haven't played this game and want to, please LEAVE this chapter. It has heavy spoilers for Doki Doki Literature Club. And yes, I know there is already a fic on the game but this is very different from the one already created.

I walk down the hall of my school. I’ve been a student here for as long as I can remember and I have been studying with my close friends since then, too. My friends Jake, Rich, and Michael all attend the same school as me and we even have been planning to open a new club, if the school allows us. My life has been perfect. I don’t have hundreds of friends, but I love the little group we’ve created. There’s Rich, the friendly, cheerful one. He’s always bringing smiles to our faces even when he’s down himself. Jake is the straight forward one, always inserting himself into conversations. He has a bad temper but it’s nothing Rich’s calm words can’t usually fix. Then there’s Michael, who’s the newest to our group of friends. He’s shy and quiet and would probably prefer reading a book than talking to us, but he makes for intelligent company.

I love my friends and I loved Rich’s idea of creating a club. Although, we didn’t know what exactly the club should be about. Jake suggested a cooking club at first, but our school already has a cooking club. Rich added that maybe we could start the school’s first anime club, but none of us watch enough anime to start a club on it. Michael didn’t immediately project his opinion like everyone else, but I could see he was at a lost, too. I pondered the thought for a days’ time, and can up with the perfect club.

“How about a literature club!” I project.

The group stared at me wide eyed. I could see them working the idea in their minds. We were all seated together eating our lunch on the school’s rooftop as usual since most students eat in their club rooms. I wanted to back up my reasoning for the club. It’s odd to suggest such an unusual club idea but I had a logical explanation for it all.

“Listen, we all love our literature. Rich reads those tragic sob stories, Jake reads his cutesy manga, and Michael loves romance novels. I love reading, too. We should create the literature club!”

“Hey! I don’t read _cutesy_  manga!” Jake interjected.

“I’m sure your manga is very manly, Jake,” Rich said.

Jake humphs as Rich flashes him a big smile. Michael, seated to my side, was smiling wide. I nudged him and asked for his opinion.

“Well,” he started, “I think … I think the club idea is splendid. But it’s only fair that Jeremy be the club leader since he did create it and all.”

“I don’t see a problem with that! I’m sure if we ask one of the teachers, they’ll agree to let us use their room after school and during lunch!” Rich said.

Jake smiled in agreement, so did Rich and Michael. I knew we’d make a great club together and was honored to be name president. That was the day we all decided to create the Literature Club.

And the day my world fell apart.

On the first day of the Literature Club, I learned the truth about our world. Everything made sense. I know why I don’t know anyone else at school, I know why our school doesn’t have a name, I know why I don’t remember classes, I know why I don’t have parents, I know why the world is so colorful in some places but grey in others. This isn’t real. My world isn’t real. I live in a game. Me and all of my friends are just coded sprites in a visual novel. We all have exaggerated personalities because it’s all we have. We’re nothing more than lines of code someone programmed onto a software.

The day of us deciding on a club is the only real memory I have. I only have false memories programmed for me to have by the developer. I have a sense that I’m a seventeen year old high school student. But I have no information on when I was born, because I never was. There was a day when I wasn’t present and then I just was. I was forced to live in a video game with other people who are designed to be my best friends. I was hollow after finding out about the truth. I couldn’t tell anyone about my discovery, I didn’t want my friends to learn the dark truth.

Despite them not being real, I didn’t want to scare them. I didn’t want them to live this life I now do. I go to school every day, as I am programmed to. I live in agony. I want to scream and tell the universe, whatever universe that created us, that we weren’t just fake boys living in an otome game. We were more, weren’t we? The developer of our game had to know that when I became club president I would know the truth. Was this their intention? Was it a bug? It’s not like I can communicate with the outside world, I live in some developer’s computer hardware.

Until one day.

One day, I felt a shift. Something was happening to our world, the others couldn’t see it. But I could. I could see the world slowly warping and shaking. When suddenly, it stopped. Everything stopped. I looked around my artificial world. My friends stopped moving, the game seemed to have stopped working. I was almost … happy. I thought perhaps the developer of the game got bored of us. Maybe they decided to delete the game entirely. Maybe they could see that I was suffering. Whatever it was, it seemed that me and my friends and the entire world that I’ve only ever known, was coming to an end.

When suddenly, I was prompted to input something. It was a blue box that headlined “Game Description”. Was it asking me to write a description on the game? Why wouldn’t the developer just write this? Isn’t that their job? I couldn’t exit the blue pop up screen so I sucked it up and began writing the game’s description. I based it off of what I seen in the game so far. The Literature Club, the games we play, the boys I’ve known my whole short existence. I wrote it all in the box, using my perspective. If this game was going to be commercial for people to finally start playing, I might as well let them know I know about the world, right?

Once I was done, the blue was covered with another text prompt that stated “Uploading to Steam directory”. I didn’t understand fully what it meant, but continued with my life nonetheless. The next day was unlike any other. There was someone else! Rich mentioned bringing his childhood friend to our club that day. Low and behold, I met _her_. She was being dragged by Rich’s tight grasp. She’s a real person! Someone from the real world! Does she know about me yet? I faced her directly, staring her down. She had to notice I was the only one _truly_  looking at her, right? She didn’t have any features, just an average built girl with brown flowing locks. But I knew she was just a placeholder for the real girl playing behind the scenes.

Rich introduced her, but I could already tell by the game’s IU that she input her name as Christine. This real girls name is Christine! I know by the tags the game was listed under that it is a visual novel/Otome game. Otome games are visual novels targeted towards girls. They get to romance which ever boy they fancy from the list, and play the game as if they’re in a relationship with them. I was ecstatic. Finally, a real person I could talk to! I didn’t want to scare her so easily, so I decided outright telling her about my knowledge of the world would be too much. She seemed nice, when the game prompted her with dialogue options, she chose rather nice ones.

I need to know about this Christine girl. The real girl that’s playing the game, I need her help to get me out of this hellish world. I need her to pick me to date. I have to be with her forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still taking suggestions! I absolutley loved writing this chapter. I plan on writing a lot more of this in the future since it's such a good idea. It could even be it's own fic one day. Sorry if you've never played the game and think this chapter is dull, it's free on Steam and at it's offical website! I highly recommend it if you're a fan of visual novels. Until then, Sky.


	19. Day Nineteen - Sci-fi AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you PeachButter for this amazing idea! Although it's not entirely what you wanted, I was heavily inspired from your magical/sci-fi prompt.

I have just completed my second full day at Dunbar’s Academy of Wizardry. When mom and dad pushed me into refining my magical abilities, they probably didn’t think I’d get a scholarship to the most prestigious wizardry school in all of the Kingdom of Justaria. I’ll never forget the look in my parents’ eyes after my primary school aptitude test. I was used to getting perfect straight A’s on tests and quizzes and passing my magic demonstrations with flying colors. It never occurred to me that the councilmen of Justaria’s capital would see me as exemplary and place me in the most highly renowned academy for magical arts.

I remember being so young, no more than four when my parents discovered my abilities. My mother was born with the abilities as well, but she didn’t have the gift as strong as I did. She had powers, but they have always been weak and minimal. My father was born with a small amount of power as well. All of us are called Gifted. In Justaria being born with magical abilities is everything. It’s how we live and how we learn. Most everyone is born with some kind of magical ability. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t have the ability to use and manipulate magic.

People who are born into the world without powers, are taken away the moment doctors learn of God’s mistake. These people are called Hollows. It’s obviously very heartbreaking, since there is no real stopping it. Parents have to anticipate having a child, only for it to be taken away the moment they’re born. The chance people will birth a Hallow is random. It’s unknown if it’s caused by genetics, food, air pollution, or what. Hallow births are rather rare, since Hallows are taken away at birth to be placed in Justaria’s lower region. The lower region is a large city like dwelling underground. The Gifted are prohibited from going down there, even if it is to see a family member or loved one. And Hallows are prohibited from seeing the upper region, the land most people live in.

I remember being told once at a young age that Hollows are secretly humans or some kind of vampire. I used to laugh at that. Certainly if they were humans, they would need to be parented by one, and there are no humans in Justaria. I used to be told by the older kids that humans don’t look like us. I don’t know much on humans, no one does since just the mention of the word is a crime of treason against Justaria, but I’m almost certain they look like Martians. The older boys used to tell me of them having dark colored hair, beautiful shades of browns and blacks were the most common hair colors on the human’s home planet of Earth. The boys told stories of Hollows being born with dark hair, making everyone conspire that they were part human.

It’s all just chatter to me. I could care less about Hollows or humans, since I’ve been in relation to either one and I never will be. I’m among the most talented Martians on Mars, future scholar of Dunbar Academy of Wizardry. I’m on my way to be being a high ranking Martialist, the guards of Justaria’s capital and royal family. I’d be living it up in Hina, the nation’s capital, I would never have to worry. The humble king of Justaria treats his men like gold. Martialist walk the streets of the country doused in silver platted armor and pixel glass helmets, they carry no weapons other than a silver bullet gun. Their minds however, are the true weapons. They can bend people’s minds at will, controlling and manipulating the civilians easily. If war or a fight were ever to break out, a single Martialist alone can stop it.

I hope to achieve that status one day. I have been training since I was four, my mind being tested twice a week by a gifted professor. Just yesterday, during the more physical part of our training sessions, I was being pinned against the wall by my father. I was supposed to look at my professor as an enemy and my father as an asset. My professor launched towards me with a fake blade, while my father held me down tightly. It took less than a second for me to mentally throw my father three feet across the room and hold control of my professor. I made him stab the pretend sword into his own chest. He faked a retching noise and dramatically fell to the floor. My father stood up, whipping the dust from the floor off his pants suit.

“That was marvelous, Jeremiziah! You’re already better at your abilities than me! Your son is a real talent, Mr. Hiere. An absolute genius of the arts of mind manipulation,” complimented Mr. Reyez.

“He no doubt doesn’t get it from me! I was a sap at magic at his age, ha!” My father jokes.

While my father and lifelong professor laughed, I couldn’t help but smile at myself. I really am getting better and better every day at my abilities. I can feel the energy of others around me, although pretty much everyone can do that, but now I am always reminded of its presence. Whenever I met someone new, I try to evaluate their energy in my head. How strong were they? Could I take them in a fight? Was their power more controlled or sporadic? I think about magic at nearly every moment, I’m a fully enrolled scholar in the best school on all of Mars, it’s literally my entire life now.

That was after my first day of lessons at Dunbar. My first two days have been boring, but helpful. I’ve been introduced to other novices, met my professors, and toured the campus. It’s a large school, much larger in person than on the SocialNet. It’s even surrounded in its own bubble that produces its own oxygen. All of Justaria’s provinces are surrounded in bubbles, it keeps in the oxygen we breathe and provides artificial light, creating our own day and night cycle. But only one school having such an expensive asset is remarkable. I’m lucky enough to live in the province of Corpstar 3. The Corpstar provinces are the business models of Justaria. We create businesses and provide products to the capital, my father is a manager at one of the many corporations here. He specializes in marketing products children living in the capital, like toys, makeup, and costumes. My mother works for the same company, but as my father’s boss’ secretary.

We make decent money, I’ve never gone a day without food on the table after school and I’ve gotten pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted or needed. I’m glad we don’t live in the other provinces. In primary school, we’re taught the people of some provinces do hard labor nearly every day, providing products to the capital and larger provinces. I couldn’t imagine a world where all I did was work, work, and work until I died. Such a meaningless life. I used to think when I younger that I wanted to be a politician if I wasn’t a Martialist. I would fight for the people of poorer provinces to have shorter hours and less tedious work. It was a goal of mine as a child, but a silly thing to wonder as an adult now.

Politicians aren’t a thing in Justaria. The only political debates we have are those provided by the royal family. Sometimes a councilmen will run his jaw about raising taxes for a week or shorting rations if outer provinces don’t produce more products for Hina. Thankfully such a threat has never been directed at Corpstar 3. Most councilmen don’t seem to do much. I’m sure they have a very important role in the capital and to poor provinces, but to a province as squeaky clean as Corpstar 3, it doesn’t matter to us.

I’m currently sitting in my bedroom, the artificial light outside is dimming, which means all lights will be off within a few hours. To lessen air pollution, Justaria’s outer regions turn off all lights, indoors and out, at around 20 hours. Our electricity is still on however, for the working business men and women of Corpstar to use their SocialNets. I’m on my bed, reading the homework assignment Professor Yaris has assigned on my Nuroport. I use my finger to scroll through the document, highlighting what I should focus on when I decide to do it. I flick my arm up to turn it off and huff at the black screen.

I’m way too tired to be worried about my homework right now. It has to be around 17 hours, why hasn’t mom called me for dinner? I began to rub the rubber of my Nuroport’s holster on my arm, a nervous tick I’ve had since I got my first Nuroport in primary school. I almost decide to take get off my ass and take shower when I get notification on my Nuroport. I flick my arm up to turn it on and see the notification blocking my previously opened document. It’s from my mother.

**Dinner time! Be in the dining room at approximately 17:05 or I’ll beat you with a spoon!**

I laugh and decide to head to dinner with my family. I arrive at the table to find my mother and father sitting at their respective seats at the table, I take mine and await my mother to serve us our meal. She gracefully passes around what she bought for today’s meal at the conservation station with our ration money. It’s actually my meal favorite they offer, Cordon Soup with buttered crackers and celery. We dig in, devouring my mother’s preparation of the meal. Ration meals are stored together with everything that dish requires, it cost less money for the capital to make and we have just enough of the food for each family member.

Half way through the meal, my mother asks, “Honey, how has schooling been?”

“Wonderful,” I say with cracker in my mouth, “I think we’re finally going to start getting to the fun stuff after this week.”

My father adds, “I’m sure you’ll have so much fun, Jeremi. I know Dunbar is going to be rigorous, but think of all the opportunities that await you after graduation in three years.”

I nod in agreement. I know my acceptance to Dunbar means everything to my parents. They were so ecstatic, even more than I was when my letter arrived. I was mostly nervous, I worried about not knowing anyone and fearing that the school would be too tough on novices. But I’m glad to say that my experience so far has been pleasant. I already met two really nice girls named Jenah and Kloe, we share most of our classes together. They’re actually friends from primary school and are the only girls who got accepted in their entire class. Besides from meeting my pupils, I also really like my professors. So far, Dunbar has been a relatively fine school.

When I’m finished my dinner, I dump the small bit leftover in the waste basket and head up into my room for the night. The lights should be turning off soon and I don’t want to get caught downstairs and have to use my Nuroport as a light source. I sigh as I lean into my soft bed, my floor creaking underneath my weight. I turn my head to the side to look at myself in the body length mirror. I look exhausted, my blonde hair is curled at the ends from sweat and my face is covered in acne yet again. I should’ve spent the last of my coin on a better acne wash.

Although it’s early, I feel like falling asleep. I feel my body shift through consciousness until I’m awoken suddenly by a loud bang against my window. I look around, it’s pitch black. The lights must have been turned off while I was snoozing. I sit up and flick my Nuroport on, it flashes back at me with a dim red light.

**Battery Low**

I groan and decide to use the last bit of power I have for a flashlight while I investigate the noise. I flick on the flashlight and shine it across the room, my arm waving out in front of me, until I determine which window it came from. I walk over with my arm out stretched towards the back window of my room. Just when I’m about to open the window, another bang resonates. I jump down, scared whatever flew at my window might break the glass and hit me. I wait for impact but hear nothing. I slowly peak my head over the window pane and carefully lift the window open. Once it’s fully open, I lift myself up and bend over the pane to get a better look at who threw a Martian rock against my damn window.

Outside my window, maybe five feet away, is a boy throwing rocks.

“Hey!” I whisper yell, “Stop throwing rocks and get out of – hmpf!”

The boy has made his way over to my window within seconds, pushing his way through and slamming his body against mine. We both fall to my bedroom floor. I do my best to push him off of me. He stumbles back a bit but regains his stature and quickly closes the window.

“What the fuck, m –“

“Shh,” he brings a finger up to his lips and ducks down, pulling me unto the floor with him. He points to the window and instructs me to watch. I do as I obey his command to be quiet. While I wait for something to happen, I take a proper glance at the boy next to me on the floor. He’s wearing tattered, yellow robes and no shoes. Oddest of all is his hair, a dark black muff on top of his head. His skin is dark brown, unlike anyone else’s I’ve ever seen. He shushes me again and points me in the direction where he sees something. On the grey street behind my house, four Martialist run left, all of their guns removed from their holsters and placed in their hands. They jump into a steel platted hovercar designed with the Justaria sigma on it and drive off. I look at the boy who has invaded my house, terrified. Why was he involved with the Martialists? What did he do? What does he want from me? Why does he look like that? I want answers and I want them now. I went to speak, but he covered my mouth again.

“Don’t you see?” He asks.

I shake my head no.

“The revolution is starting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! There's no way I'm leaving this chapter just at that. I really want to write a full length fic to this one day! PEASE TELL ME IF YOU LIKE IT!
> 
> Glossary:  
> Justaria - Only nation on Mars, enemy is the planet Earth and humans as a whole  
> Martians - The sub-species of human living on Mars  
> Gifted - People born with Martian powers  
> Hollows - People born without Martian powers  
> Hina - Capital city of Justaria  
> Martialist - Guards that protect and enforce laws in Justaria, often wearing special steel-platted armor   
> Jeremiziah/Jeremi - Name of Jeremiah just changed for sci-fi effect  
> Jenha - Name of Jenna just changed for sci-fi effect  
> Kloe - Name of Chloe just changed for sci-fi effect  
> SocialNet - The only form of internet Martians are allowed to use, censors any content about Earth and humans  
> Biodomes - Glass domes that protect the many provinces of Justaria from high temperatures on Mars, low oxygen, and projects a night and day cycle  
> Corpstar 3 - Province of Justaria Jeremi lives in, known for it's successful businesses   
> Nuroports - Portable electronic devices, usually worn on the arm 
> 
> For the safety of all Justaria citizens, this is all you're allowed to know. We thank you for your service in keeping Justaria thriving. Have a lovely day.


	20. Day Twenty - Spiderman AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to FurorNocturna for the amazing prompt!

‘Just another day,’ I think to myself as I whip across buildings, my webs catching on numerous windows and brick’s belonging to the many buildings of New Jersey. Today’s monster is Sandman, a regular tormentor of New Jersey’s small cities. I’ve been Spiderman for three months and I’ve probably fought this guy hundred times, maybe more. While his shapeshifting abilities are impressive, they’re no match for my spidey-sense. Which, okay yeah scratch that. That’s stupid as all Hell. Who would let a high schooler be a superhero? I can’t even come up with cool names for my spider-like abilities.

I don’t have much time to think as Sandman crashes to the main street of New Jersey’s popular city Jersey City. Civilians run away from all angles, some clutch onto their purses and backpacks, others are sheltering their children. Sandman sneers as I swiftly land on top of a parked city bus. The remaining people in the bus smile and gleam up at me.

“Mama! Look! Spiderman is gonna save us!” A little boy exclaims.

The mother holds her son tighter but gives me a reassuring look with hopeful eyes. I look away from the window below me to notice Sandman making his way to me, covering the street in thousands of pounds of sand. The people on the bus run out the front and back doors. I see one more glimpse of the boy and his mother as they flee down Main Street.

“Come on, Sandy. This is the fourth time this week, I have better villains to fight, ya know,” I shout to him through the mask.

He sneers again as his body collects the sand that fell on the earth. He brace myself for a fight, one foot behind the other. I look up at him. I suddenly see something catch my eye from across the street. Someone is waving their hands wildly, I see red blur together as a boy jumps and squeals. It’s my best friend, Michael. He’s wearing his signature hoodie that includes a patch he made himself of the Spiderman sigma on the back, along with other numerous patches. My eyes widen. Why is he here? Why now of all times?

Me and Michael have been friends since before I could remember. We tell each other everything. We talk about school, about girls, about video games, about literally everything. When I found out I’m the next contender to be Spiderman, I couldn’t believe it. Michael is obsessed with Spiderman. We don’t really geek out about superheroes, but Michael has a soft spot for one hero in particular: Me. Although, he doesn’t know it’s me. No one does, but people still speculate on chat rooms and forums. I’ve heard radical theories that Spiderman is the same guy who is reborn every generation. Or other rumors that he’s actually immortal. Nope. The current Spiderman is a horny high school boy who has only one friend and gets bullied in school. I could come out and identify myself.

But people would be let down when they realize their beloved hero is a total loser.

Sandman catches me staring and follows my gaze. He notices Michael immediately, who really couldn’t? He looks back up at me and smiles.

“You know that boy, Spidey?” He asks.

I grit my teeth under my mask, no way is this monster going to hurt Michael. He laughs and before I can even act, he charges at him, sand spills on Main Street. I dash after him, sprouting my web against the CD store. I fly through the air, but Sandman’s head start isn’t doing me good. He’s already caught up to Michael in seconds. I can see the terror in Michael’s eyes. God if he’s hurt, I’ll _kill_  this asshole.

Sandman rips Michael from off the street and traps him in a mountain of sand. I rush after the pair, zipping through the city. Sandman shoots a ton of sand in my direction, I fly upwards to dodge his attack. Sand falls on top of cars below. Fuck, of course Michael would run downtown the second he heard of Spiderman fighting crime. I’d only been fighting for a matter of fifteen minutes when he showed up. No matter how adorable his unknown obsession with me is, it’s incredibly dangerous for him to just flock to me whenever there’s trouble.

Sandman keeps shooting sand as we head down further and further on Main Street. This isn’t doing anything, Michael could be drowning in sand right now. I hear a honk to my right. A huge sixteen wheeler is barreling down North Park Street, adjacent Main. I need to find Michael _now_  or he’ll be killed on impact. I frantically search for him as Sandman leads me right into the North Park Street. I finally manage to spot him, his head of brown hair floating in the mounds of sand.

I spring a web and zip across the intersection, flinging myself through the sand to capture Michael. We burst out of Sandman’s torso. I hear an utter cry right before the truck rams into him, causing sand to scatter on impact. The truck comes to a stop, the driver perplexed and maybe even a little drunk. I look down and see my best friend in my arms. He’s covered in sand, like me. I frantically shake him.

“Wake up! Mic- I mean, God damnit. Wake up!” I shout in his ear.

Within a few seconds, Michael wakes up. His eyes are still the same beautiful brown. He coughs out sand as he goes to sit up. I push him back down as he looks at me.

“Holy shit! Y-y-y-you’re Spiderman! I – I, thank you! I, um,” he says.

Michael looks down, clearly embarrassed. Okay, I knew he loved me but now he has a crush on me? I laugh and lift him back up on his feet. I pat his back as paramedics arrive on the scene. Emergency services rush over to help him recover. I nod my head in his direction and blast off, shooting a web so high he won’t be able to see me go.

The next night is a Friday, the usual time me and Michael hang out. He’s spending the night and because he’s a good best friend, he tells me all about his first encounter with Spiderman.

“No! Jeremy it was … it was fucking amazing! He saved me from death! I mean I know he does stuff like that all the time, but this was me! I might have almost died, but it was the best day of my life!” He shouts.

I nod as I lay out his sleeping bag for the night. Michael can go on and go about his favorite hero, but when his favorite hero saves his life? He’ll probably never stop talking about it. I laugh as he rambles about how cool Spiderman is. I should feel awesome, but something about this is kind of bittersweet. It’s not like I can tell Michael that I’m Spiderman. He wouldn’t even believe me if I did. He’d just laugh and say I was trying too hard for him to like me more. Which in all honesty, I am.

I might be the Spiderman hero, but I’m not Spiderman twenty four-seven. I’m Jeremy Heere, first and foremost. It’s like Michael doesn’t understand that Spiderman may have a life after being a crime fighter. Which, I do thank you very much. I sigh as we go to lay down in our respective sleeping areas. Mine is my bed and Michael’s is the same sleeping bag he’s had since seventh grade. Thankfully, he hasn’t grown much so he can still use it.

“Night, Jer,” he says.

“Night, Micha,” I say.

I turn off the lamp light and try to will myself to sleep. But all I can think of is the way he clutched onto me for dear life yesterday. I keep thinking of seeing his face, so lifeless when I pulled him out. I keep thinking about that looks of embarrassment and admiration he had when he saw me for the first time. I roll over in bed and look at my half asleep best friend. His face is facing mine, his eyes closed. I smile as I drift off, my last sight being of Michael’s peaceful face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! If you missed yesterday's chapter, I highly recommend you read it! I've decided it will be a preveiw of a new series I'm working on. I plan on continuing it after NaNoWriMo but I have already side writen a lot of material for it. I really hope you guys like it! For now, we only have ten days left of NaNoWriMo! :( I'll try to make these last chapters as awesome as possible!


	21. Day Twenty-one - Comfort/Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the guest account 'Rainbow Mooncat' for this awesome prompt!

There’s something unspoken in the world of gaming and that’s that Mario Kart is quite possibly the world’s most competitive game of all time. I think Mario Kart has been the main cause of every fight me and Michael have ever had. Everything goes smoothly at first. We pick out our characters, choose our cars, and decide on a map. The first half of the race is harmless run, we still have two more laps to go and being first in the first two laps isn’t as incredible as being first in the last two.

Currently, I’m in first place on and last lap. Me and Michael but heads as we go back and forth in sharing the spot. It wasn’t until he accidentally fell off a ledge that I got a huge jump in front of him. We competitively jeered each other as we “accidentally” bumped into each other on the couch. I would slightly push Michael and he would push me a little harder. This started a chain of pushing until one of us paused the game from laughing too hard.

I’m glad we can still act like this. I thought after the Squip, Michael wouldn’t talk to me anymore. I did dick around with him a lot and left him alone for weeks. Not that it was entirely my fault, but it was still something that weighed on my shoulders. But the day after the event, when I was released from the hospital, I couldn’t have been happier to get Michael’s text. He texted me asking to come over for the weekend and binge play AotD 3. Although I was still grounded, my dad let me go since he could tell I was upset about treating Michael that way. It was the most refreshing weekend I ever had. It was nice to just chill back with my best friend and pretend like nothing happened.

Michael unpauses the game and we return to playing. I’m still quite ahead of Michael in the race. I take a quick glance at the mini map on the top left corner of the screen: Only a little bit left to go! I let my guard down as my chosen character, Yoshi, neared the finish line. Suddenly, I’m hit from the back with a blue shell. Yoshi spins uncontrollably only inches from the finish line. Michael’s character, Luigi, crosses the finish line first and wins the race.

“God damnit, Micha!” I huff.

“Hey, we can’t all be winners,” Michael says as he stick his tongue out at me.

I sneer. I look back at the screen, prompting reading on the left side: YOU LOSE. In big, red letters. I take the controller back in my hands and turn to Michael. He looks smug, what a sore winner.

“Best two out of three?” I ask.

It’s now the second race. I chose the same character, Michael chose Mario this time. We’re racing in a new map as well. I might have gone into the last game a little rusty, so now I have a plan. I purposely lose the first half of the race, making sure to fall at least once and run into a few trees on the way. Michael keeps his smug smile as we race. I have a secret smile of my own because I know I’ll win for sure this time.

We finally get to the last lap of the race. I gain a tremendous amount of speed on Michael. We’re neck to neck now, one more turn to the finish line. We’ve started playing dirty as always. Michael pushes first, I push next. He pushes harder than expected and I curse.

“Come on! Stop pushing me, loser,” I utter.

Michael stops playing the game. His character stops driving and I easily surpass him and win the race. I should feel great, but something doesn’t feel right. Michael would never let me win such a competitive game. I look up at him. His grip on the controller slowly growing tighter by the second. I pause the game, Yoshi’s winning animation only half finished. I place my controller on the floor, eyeing Michael the whole way.

“What’s wrong, dude? You didn’t have to stop driving. Why would you …” I ask.

Michael shakes his head and gets up. He tosses the controller on the bean bag and walks to the end of the room. I want to follow but I’m so shocked that I stay in place. My mouth is hanging half way open, staring as my best friend walks away. I don’t want him to be angry at me. Is it something I said? I will myself to stand and follow Michael to the back of my room. He’s putting his shoes on?

“Michael, what’s going on?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. He just finishes tying his laces and heads back to the bean bags and grabs his book bag, still grafittied with ‘riends’ in black marker. I watch as he slings the bag over his shoulder and heads towards the door. I stop him in time, grabbing his arm.

“What’s wrong? I-I’m sorry, I-I-I …,” I trail off.

Damnit, I always stutter when I’m anxious. I don’t want Michael to be angry. I wish he’d just say something so I can apologize. He looks at me oddly, like he half pities me but also is half irritated with me. I want to make it better, but how? I look down for a moment, avoiding Michael’s cold gaze so I can come up with something to say or do that’ll make him stay. What did I say that made him so mad? He’s never just walked away like this before.

I think and think. It feels like years, but I know it’s only been a few seconds. Plus, Michael isn’t leaving just yet. What did I do? I think back to when it all happened and stop dead in my tracks when I figure it out. That night at the party. I remember being a total asshole to Michael, but not all the little details. Considering both Rich and Jake were injured, it was the only thing on my mind at the time. But now that I’m being forced to remember it better, I know I clearly pushed a limit for Michael. I called him a loser. Not something I ever really wanted to say, it just kind of came out.

He thinks I think he’s a loser now? That’s not true! Michael is my best friend, I was only messing with him just now. But back then? I don’t know. I’ve never hated Michael, but I can see why for a short while he would hate me. I let go of his arm. He looks confused, like he thought I was going to say something. I don’t know what else to do other than hug him. I bring him close, wrapping my arms around his middle and squeezing. He’s caught off guard but accepts it anyway. I breathe him in and hold back tears.

“I’m s-s-sorry. I kn-know you h-hate me,” I mumble into his hoodie.

I don’t feel anything for a while. But after a few moments, I feel his torso fall as he exhales. His hand pets my head softly. I’m sure why but I _really_  like the way he does that. I squeeze a bit tighter when he does, mostly because I’m caught off guard but also because I want to distract to myself from the fact that I love being pet. Michael laughs above me, it’s deep and sweet. He hugs me back and I can finally breathe. I look up at him, my tears smeared on my face. I want to tell him that I’m sorry again. He talks before I can.

“Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be upset. And I don’t hate you. If I did, I wouldn’t get to eat your dad’s enchiladas every Tuesday and that would be a real tragedy,” he says.

I laugh, the first sound I’ve made other than pitiful cries and sniffles. I look back up at Michael, and I swear I can see him blush. We both awkwardly stare at each other and push each other away when we realize what we’re doing. I pretend to dust myself off to forget how odd the encounter was. Michael stand awkwardly, nearly a foot away.

“Uh, can we just … watch a move or something?” He asks.

I nod as I make my way over to the system and take out Mario Kart and replace it back in it’s box. Michael places his bag back on the floor and kicks off his shoes. I’m glad he has decided to stay but also worried. Why can’t I get the image of him blushing from out of my mind? And why do I really want to hug him like that again? I shake this feeling off as I go back to the bean bag. I navigate the controller to the Netflix app.

“What, uh. What do you wanna watch?” I ask.

“Whatever. Something with a happy ending, though,” Michael admits.

I nod and obey his commands as I head to Netflix’s ‘Feel Good’ section. I absent mindedly flick through the numerous movies and shows. I’ve never acted so awkward around Michael before. Something about that meaningless hug changed something about us. I try my best to forget about it as my movie of choice begins to play. But I have to be honest when I say that I probably won’t ever forget about that hug, as meaningless as it may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! I really liked writing this chapter. Hopefully you guys like it, too. As always, don't forget to leave a comment on what I should write next! Only nine more chapters to go! Until tomorrow, Sky.


	22. Day Twenty-two - Assassin AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt came from my (very stressed) head.

Michael pulled the shroud over his face, the blackness of the mask made him nearly impossible to spot in the night. His uniform a dark black and blue, to match the night sky. It’d be tough for a soul to find him like he is now: Clothed head to toe in the uniform, crouching in the brush in the lawn of a lovely home. He knows he should’ve waited, it’s only eleven at night. Most people are just barely sleeping yet but Michael honestly just wants this to be over with. He hates getting calls on the weekends, especially late night ones.

He creeps through the New Jersey home’s lawn, careful to watch out for sprinklers he could trip over. Michael successfully makes it across the resident’s lawn and reaches a window on the far left of the house on its first floor. He pulls the screwdriver out of his pocket to easily unhinge the window and slip through. Before he closes the window, he looks around to make sure he hasn’t woken up any unexpected pets. He doesn’t see a furry creature around, so he closes the window silently and makes his way through the house.

Michael’s unlucky family tonight is the Heere household, whoever they are. It never really matters to him, he obeys his commander’s orders and does his job. There have been jobs he’s been hesitant about, ones including taking out men who’ve killed dozens who has five children sleeping next door. Other hard tasks are the ones where he’s ordered to silence a mother who not only abuses drugs but also her kids. That shit breaks Michael’s heart, although he’s pretty good at pretending not to have one.

Michael is an assassin. He works for an organization that hires young delinquents who have no home that will carry out dirty jobs. Michael was just ten years old when he was picked off the street by older gang members. He was homeless, an orphan, and starving. It was take the opportunity or be killed by starvation or the harsh winter. And when you’re a helpless boy living alone on the streets, it’s hard to turn down an offer. Despite having a choice to be a member, it’s impossible to get out. Michael tried when he was eleven to escape. But the leader would always require members seeking a way out to do hundreds of favors since they sheltered them.  

“What, ‘Lil Red? You wanna leave already?” Questioned the leader.

He used Michael’s nickname that was only ever thrown around by the gang members. The reason was his hoodie he was wearing the day he joined the gang, his old red hoodie that was long gone now. Michael remembered the day he asked to leave like it was yesterday. The memory slapped him like a cold breeze as he crept through the house.

“If I remember correctly, ‘Lil Red, you ain’t been here no longer than last December. You wanna leave that badly? What’s so bad about us, eh?” He asked.

The leader had leaned in to show his rotten, disgusting teeth. Michael wanted to look away but knew he’d be punished for it. He stared straight at him as he breathed his grotesque breathe into his face. Michael stood firm and nodded as an answer. That’s all he remembers of the night. According to Rune, Michael’s bunk mate, he was knocked out by the leader. Rune had seen the encounter and dragged him back to bed.  

Michael tries to push the memory down as he slowly makes his way through the Heere household. He doesn’t know much about his target, other than he is a part of a rival gang and needs to be taken out as a way to show who has the higher ground. Michael hopes the job won’t be tough since the boy clearly knows how to fight if he’s in another gang. He wants to go home early and take a nice nap before being rudely woken up by Rune’s obsessive nightmares. He ascends the staircase to the second floor and begins his search for the boy’s room.

He opens the first door to his right, inside is a pristine, white bathroom. He closes it and walks to the other directly next to it. The room is a light blue color, the walls covered in posters and art. He closes the door and knows this must be his target’s room. The file mentioned no siblings and only two household members. Michael creeps towards the boy sleeping in the corner of the room. He slowly brings the knife out of his holster.

He’s only inches from the boy now, he nudges him, so he can get a better angle at his neck. The sleeping boy turns and Michael can clearly see his face. He nearly drops the weapon in shock. He can’t believe that this boy is him. The boy from the cherry blossom festival last month. He was working at the ice cream station, Michael had stared at him for nearly an hour that day. His employers made him wear a kimono for the event and Michael thought he looked adorable in the Japanese garment.

New Jersey isn’t known for much but its popular city Jersey City does hold a very successful cherry blossom festival every year during the cherry blossom season in Japan. Although the town doesn’t have actual cherry blossoms in planted, fake ones are made by the neighboring schools in the city and people can vote on the best ones. Whatever class wins from whatever school usually gets free gift cards for each student. Although the event is quite beautiful, the fallen paper cherry blossoms are usually pretty annoying. Most residents hate the next week that follows because wet, old paper blossoms cover Jersey City. Michael’s lived long enough on the streets to know how annoying the pretend blossoms can be but the festival itself is always something Michael looks forward to.

He’s never actually participated in the event but he loves watching people wear kimonos and eat sushi and taiyaki. The city even goes as far to include the actual religious aspects of the festival. Michael overall loves the atmosphere and the happy smiles he sees plastered on the New Jersey residents’ faces. He was watching the festival that day and couldn’t stop staring at the Hynes Ice Cream concession stand.

Working was a cute boy probably the same age as Michael. He was wearing a bright orange kimono as he worked the cash register of the stand. Michael watched him for maybe am hour before deciding to buy something. He went up to the stand when it was empty, the cute boy greeted him sweetly.

“Hi, welcome to Hynes. What would you like?” He asked.

Michael looked away to cover the small bit of blush on his cheeks, he ran his eyes over the menu and spoke slowly.

“I would like, uh. A small waffle cone of cookies and cream, please,” he finally answered.

The boy nodded and smiled as he used the giant spoon to scoop out a good chuck of the cookie goodness. He finished putting the ice cream in the cone and handed Michael the treat, stating the price was six dollars. Michael paid and thanked the boy for the ice cream. It was a simple relationship, really. Until it wasn’t. Because now Michael is staring down at the attractive boy he saw at the festival weeks ago and is being forced to kill him.

Would it be wrong to say something about seeing the boy again excited Michael? Not that he wanted to kill him, but he did want to know more about him. Now that he knows just about everything, he wishes he didn’t. He wishes it doesn’t have to be this way. He wishes the boy weren’t in a gang, although it’s hard to picture the cute, sleeping boy below him to be. His hands were so soft in his when he handed back the money, not fighting hands. It almost makes Michael angry that he most likely has gotten into fights. He might have even held a gun before.

He looks at his knife, filled with guilt. Does the boy deserve it? Is he even in a gang? This has to be a mistake, but the leader never made a mistake before. Does he know about Michael’s crush on the boy? It’s unlikely, but if he saw him pining at the festival, he might have gotten upset. He sighs and brings the knife under his chin, the metal blade resting on his neck. Michael closes his eyes, like he always does and pulls it across.

He opens his eyes when it’s all over. He expects blood to be spread everywhere on his blue sheets. But when he opens his eyes, he doesn’t expect to see the boy, the boy he’s known only as the ‘Cute Boy From the Ice Cream Stand’, holding a knife of his own. The knife is pressed against Michael’s throat, his own knife long forgotten in the silk sheets.

“Trying to kill me? Cute,” he sneers.

It’s the last thing Michael sees.

Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Sorry for the crappy chapter, I've been so out of it lately. I hope everyone has a really good Thanksgiving tomorrow if you celebrate it. I'm glad I'm on break so I can get some much needed sleep.


	23. Day Twenty-three - Pet Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was submitted three weeks ago by KingRay. Sorry it took so long to do this awesome prompt!

It’s only eight at night, the light has faded from the sky and now shines a purple hue across the earth. The majestic light spills into my bedroom, shrouding me and Jeremy as we slowly fall asleep. We know we shouldn’t be sleeping so early, but we stayed up all night playing video games. We couldn’t sleep during the day, it would ruin our sleeping schedule, so we stuck it out together and stayed up the entire day, too. Although Jeremy did take a quick power nap at around two in the afternoon.

It’s exactly 8:13. Nowhere near late enough to get a full night’s sleep. If we fall asleep now, we’ll both wake up at four am. Jeremy’s currently snuggled in the crook of my chubbier body. His hands are wrapped around my hips, his legs entwined in mine. Usually when he’s sleeping so adorable like this, I’d let him sleep and suffer myself. But I know I can’t let him sleep just yet. I nudge him awake and he’s eyes open to show the cute blue orbs hidden behind his lids.

“Can’t sleep just yet, baby,” I say.

Jeremy whines, his body crawling even further into me like a child might. I have to nudge him again for him to understand my words fully. He groans and stretches, his left arm nearly hitting me in the face.

“Please, Micha. Can’t we just sleep?” He asks endearingly.

I shake my head and tsk at my precious boyfriend. He might be cute, but his begging won’t affect what I know should be done. I slowly lift us both up, grunting because Jeremy refuses to lift himself up on his own. I carry his and my weight so that way we’re sitting upright in bed. He whines again and covers his face with my shoulder. I chuckle and kiss the top of his head. I can feel his checks get hotter, which makes me smile.

“If we don’t do something soon,” Jeremy starts, “I’ll fall asleep from boredom.”

I laugh at Jeremy but I do ponder the question for a moment. Watching TV or playing video games will make us more tired and only provide an hour – at best – of entertainment. We could cook something, but knowing us we’ll probably forget about the meal and burn I entirely. I think for any other solution to Jeremy’s boredom issue. He moves his head to the side, still laying on my shoulder. I see him smiling up at me, he looks so tired. Like he just got fucked.

Hey, that gives me an idea.

“Baby, we could have sex?” I half question-half inject.

I can see Jeremy’s face grow form bored and tired to excited and slightly turned on. He always gets adorably enthusiastic when he have sex. Jeremy might be innocent and sweet to everyone else, but it was only three months into our relationship that I discovered something … different about Jeremy. My almost child-like boyfriend has an extensively long list of kinks and fetishes he’s super interested in. He’s dragged me into this crazy, hot, fucked up world of his and I can’t get out. I love every second of it, even if it is unorthodox and weird: It’s what Jeremy loves. And I would do anything to please the boy that pleases me the most.

Jeremy’s eyes widen by the mention of sex. He straddles my lap in seconds, nearly bouncing up and down with joy. I grab him by the hips as he begins to comb his lengthy fingers through my hair. This is always what we do before having sex. We sit and ponder on what to do. I always let Jeremy chose, unless I have a strong urge to do something specific. I don’t really have a certain scene or kink I’d like to explore tonight, so I’m letting Jeremy take the reins. Jeremy is a picky boy and picky boys take a long time on deciding what they want to do during sex.

“Hmm,” he hums.

I let him continue to stroke my hair, his fingers make little circles on the top of my head. I can see his face contort with focus as he thinks about what he would like to do. It can sense the moment an idea has hit him, because his eyes light up and his fingers go the opposite direction. He looks down and smiles at me, I smile back. He jumps off my lap and dashes across the room to go into the closet. Clearly, whatever he has planned for tonight will involving some kind of toy. As he digs through the brown chest, I can the undying question.

“So, what’re we doing tonight, baby?”

Jeremy singsongs, “Not telling! You’ll have to guess!”

I sit back and think. It’s been awhile since he’s wanted to dominate, but I can tell by his demeanor that that won’t be happening tonight. I think again, mostly wondering what we haven’t done the most. Jeremy likes to be spontaneous and hates sticking to a routine. It’s almost natural for him to jump around, looking for new ideas.

“Can’t I at least get a hint?” I ask.

“It’s something new. You haven’t see what I bought for it yet,” he replies.

I nod and consider what we’ve never done before. Honestly, there isn’t much. Then again, with Jeremy there never is an ending to anything. The day will never come where we haven’t tried at least everything. I could list the dozens of awkward, weird, and downright peculiar things we’ve done over the years for hours, going in mass detail. After a while, Jeremy finally seems to be done searching through the chest. He stands, his hands folded behind him. I smirk, knowing he wants things to be surprising. I close my eyes.

I can hear Jeremy walking towards me, but don’t see him. I hear him giggle. I feel the tension shift as he readies whatever it is he’s using. I sit there, dumbfounded while I wait for my boyfriend to do something most couples wouldn’t dream of. I feel a tap on my knee after a few seconds. I slowly open my eyes and notice the only different about Jeremy is his stance. He’s kneeling on the ground, and there’s something around his –

“Arf!” Jeremy yelps.

What the fuck. Did my boyfriend just bark at me. Like he literally … barked at me. Oh wow, I –

“Arf, arf!” Jeremy barks again, this time louder.

I finally come to my senses. I definitely didn’t expect this to happen but everything about it screams Jeremy for some reason. I nod to verify this isn’t some lucid dream I’ve having. Jeremy, my boyfriend of the last two years, is currently sitting on the floor pretending to be a dog. I mean, there’s weirder things, right? People have walked in on their significant other worshipping the devil and fucking actual dogs before so it’s not the weirdest thing ever, but man is it up there.

I stand up and walk over to Jeremy. If he wants to play dog, then we’ll play dog. I rub his head, petting him softly. He barks again, tongue lapping out of his mouth. Like he were an actual dog receiving a pet. I smile and pet him behind his ear, almost testing the limits of Jeremy’s new found kink. He angles his head up more to get a better feel of my hand. I let this go on for a bit more, mostly for my amusement. I stop soon, dropping my hand and thinking of what I could do.

“Stay,” I order him.

He obeys and stays put. I try another command.

“Speak.”

Like a good dog, Jeremy barks. I smirk at his cleverness and think of something else.

“Roll over.”

I can see a bit of annoyance flash across Jeremy’s face. But like a good dog, he gets down on the floor and rolls over. I smile again at his obedience. I notice Jeremy reach for his hair, matting it down like one would after rolling on the ground. I smirk, knowing I’ve got him right where I want him.

“Ah!” I yell at him.

He stops what he’s doing, his hands still in the air. I try to conceal my enjoyment as I direct orders his way.

“What kind of dog uses their hands to mess with their hair? Stay put, or else,” I warn.

I walk over to the chest to contemplate what I could use on a disobedient puppy. I shift through dildos, butt plugs, and handcuffs. Me and Jeremy often call this the chest of wonders, since we forget half the shit we buy online at half price and throw in the chest without a care when it comes the week after. After a while, I think I manage to find everything I need. I place the few objects on the back wall so Jeremy can’t see them. I take the crop in my hand and walk over to face Jeremy.

He visually shrinks at the sight of the crop. I laugh sadistically. He thought he could trip me out by introducing a new kink out of the blue. For once, I’m glad I can out best him at his own game.

“Not expecting this, huh puppy?” I say.

I lightly tap the side of his face with the crop, he sneers but I know he loves it. Being degraded is Jeremy’s favorite kink out of the bunch. I smile as I see his boxers grow tighter.

“If only you thought this through more. I could’ve led you around with a leash if you were smart enough to buy one. But you’re just a dumb puppy, hmm?” I tease.

Jeremy moans, “Yes, Micha –“

I whack him with the crop, his face resonates a bright color. He cowers. I can tell I went a bit too hard, but I know by the tint in Jeremy’s boxers he’s begging for me to continue.

“Do dogs speak, Jeremy?” I ask menacingly.

“Arf…,” Jeremy barks.

Jeremy goes to touch his face, I’m sure checking out the damage I caused. I go to bring the crop down on him once more, but he’s quick in removing his hand and staring straight at me.

“Good boy. What a quick learner you are,” I state.

Jeremy barks again, obviously pissed off and desperately hard. I know I should wrap up our little game but God this is way funnier than I imagined it would be. I sit back down on the bed and motion for Jeremy to come to me. I can tell he wants to get up and walk, but I guess something in my stance (or perhaps because I’ve been holding a deadly crop this whole time), Jeremy decides on crawling to me. I smirk devilishly seeing his distraught face.

“If you’re a good boy and suck my dick, I’ll think about putting that vibrator in you and letting you come,” I say.

Jeremy wastes no time and gets to work on my dick. One helpful part about Jeremy’s extensive kinks were his love for giving oral. He once mentioned he like being called a cock slut or something along those lines and ever since then I make sure that whenever we play games like this, he can suck my dick in the end. Not that I mind, of course.

It isn’t long before I feel my orgasm in my groin. I push Jeremy off and come in my hand. He stands there, expecting to be given his release next. I laugh as he pouts. I shove the cum covered hand in his face.

“Clean up your mess, puppy.”

Jeremy begrudgingly obeys, licking every bit of come off of my hand. I move my hand away once he’s done. I see the want in his eyes now, the need to feel sweet release. He almost jumps up when I stand. He crawls behind me as I go to clean myself off in the bathroom. I can’t hold back a coo as he follows me on hands and knees into the bathroom.

“Aww, someone really wants to come, huh?” I ask.

Jeremy barks, chipper and sweeter. I contemplate the idea for a second and nod.

“You’ve been quite bad this whole time. You’ll have to be for it.”

Jeremy wastes no time and nearly exhausts himself from begging so much. He hops up and down, his tongue waging out of his mouth. He barks in a constant, loud stream. I almost come out of my dominant headspace to warn Jeremy of the neighbors. But, I stop him before then.

“Okay, okay. You might not deserve the vibrator, but I will let you come. But only if you can do it right here in the bathroom within the next five minutes. If you don’t, you’re not coming and you’ll have to stay in your collar the entire night.”

I lean down to grab his member from his pants, pulling it from the hole in his boxers. I smile and pet his head, sitting on the floor next to him to watch. Jeremy starts out slow, I can tell he feels awkward with me being so close but not helping.

“Is something wrong, puppy?” I ask.

Jeremy ignores me and continues to rub his cock, panting with each stroke. I mesmerize myself in his work, staring at his face the entire time to ensure he knows I’m watching. At the three and a half minute mark, Jeremy cries out as come shoots across the tiled bathroom floor. I laugh at his efforts.

“If you didn’t beg so nicely, I would make you lick your come off the floor. But maybe another time, hmm?”

By the way his chest falls and the sweat drips off his brow, I can safely say that Jeremy is surely spent. I go to pick him up, lifting the light boy and holding him in my arms. He snuggles I closely as I walk him to the bed and place him under the covers. I sigh as I get in next to him. I undo the collar and toss it on the floor, having little care for the toy.

“Hey, b-but my come is still on the floor!” Jeremy protests.

“We’ll clean it tomorrow, baby. Aren’t you sleepy?”

Jeremy doesn’t say anything, I take it as a yes. I pull him in tighter, breathing in him. He smells like sweat and snicker cookies. I kiss the underside of his jaw, holding him tight so he won’t feel alone in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! I really loved writing this super smutty, kinky chapter. This was so refreshing from all the story-heavy chapters I've been uploading lately. See ya tomorrow, Sky.


	24. Day Twenty-four - Sci-fi AU Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have a special sneak peak for the second chapter of a new series I'm working on! Prompt orignally uploaded by PeachButter.

"Don't you see?" He asks.

I shake my head no.

"The revolution is starting."

I take the boy’s hand slowly off of my face. Is this kid insane? I mean, he couldn’t have faked the Martialists thing, right? If he did pull a prank on me, he’d be arrested. Pranks involving law enforcement are illegal, he could be charged with treason if the councilmen was that cruel. But surely he wouldn’t run that risk. So, this has to be real. I’m at a loss for words. I sink back into the floor, looking hopelessly around the dark room, only illuminated by the faint, dying light of my Nuroport.

“What are you doing here? Why were the Martialists after you?” I ask.

The boy shakes his head. He looks so strange but oddly natural. Everything about his features are new to me. The dark hair, the dark skin, the tattered clothes, the bare feet. He also seems to be a lunatic. The only words he’s said to me were about a revolution. I study the boy during our moment of silence. He speaks odd, too. He’s not formal enough with a stranger. It’s proper etiquette to talk formal when speaking to someone who’s hosting you. Or, in this case, someone who’s hiding you from the military police.

“I … I. You won’t believe me,” he says softly.

I tsked. Of course I wouldn’t, I just want to hear his elaborate excuse. I guess I should give him the benefit of the doubt, though. He seems disgruntled and terrified. I don’t think he’s pulling a prank, but I don’t think he’ll tell me the entire truth.

“Look,” he starts, “I’ve escaped. I need to find the lost prince. It’s my duty. I know you don’t understand, but just trust me when I say that this will end the war between Mars and Earth. It’s the only thing keeping both nations apart. That and the tyrant Zagan.”

I rush forward and cover his mouth. Not taking in the irony at the moment to realize he was doing the same to me only moments before. How can he speak so openly about the king that way! If we were in public, the cameras would surely catch him and both of us would be executed for even saying such a thing. I don’t even think of the king in fear a Martialist will sense my train of though and arrest me.

“What is wrong with you!? You can’t take the king’s name in vain!” I whisper yell.

He cracks a smile under my palm. I take it back and glare at him. This boy is truly reckless.

“You really place your king on a pedestal, huh?” He says.

“Well of course,” I state, “He is _the king_ , after all.”

The boy laughs again, “Your king is an evil doer! A tyrant to the intergalactic universe.”

“Why are you saying ‘your’ king? As if you don’t live here,” I say.

The boy cracks a smile and moves closer to me. For whatever reason, despite this boy’s reckless behavior, almost killing me twice, and his odd appearance, I let him come closer to me. His skin is almost touching mine, I don’t know why but I can feel my arm hairs raise up in his presence. He pulls up his sleeve, bunching the tattered clothes in a ball at the top of his arm. I have to squint in the dark to see what he wants me to. It’s a series of numbers, all trailing down his arm. I shake my head, not understanding what this means.

“You’re right. I don’t live here. I come from the underground. And that,” he gestures to the numbers again, “Is my identification. The only record of me having ever existed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m a Hollow. I was born into this world and taken from it in seconds.”

I tsk again. This boy is actually insane. A Hollow escaping the underground? Not possible. He might have dark hair and skin, but that could just be the expensive hair dye and skin tanners they have at the capital. This could be some thief who stole from the capital who’s now on the run. And the thing he said about being taken away from the world. That’s not really true. He isn’t dead and he said lives in the underground. So, technically speaking he still has a world to live in. Just not the one above ground.

“You’re crazy,” I tell him.

His brows furrow as he says, “I’m not. Okay, maybe a little. But I’m not lying! Everything I told you is true. Everything about the lost prince and being a Hollow. I might be nuts, but I don’t lie. Not to anyone.”

“You seem to stick to your word on not being a liar. Too bad your story is a bunch of mumbo,” I flat line.

“You’re a Gifted one. You can sense people, right? I know you can control them with your mind. Try to control me. It’ll prove I’m no liar.”

I laugh as I search for his energy. I can easily sense my mother and father’s, their energy slightly weaker because they’re in the next room. I focus my ability inside the room I’m in now. But I feel nothing. There’s quite obviously a boy standing right here, yet I can’t sense anything coming off of him. This is the first time in my life I’ve ever not been able to feel someone’s energy. It’s … disturbing. I want to overpower him like I can so many others, but I can’t take his will away … It makes him even more threatening.

“What the hell? Is there something wrong with you?”

“I don’t think so. But yeah, to the doctors who delivered me, you, and the rest of the Justaria population,” he replies.

“Holy shit. You really are a Hollow.”

“Aww, looks like little perfect curses like a hovercraft sailor.”

I blush, “I’m not ‘little perfect’! I just have nicer manners than you.”

“Can’t blame me. Since I spent my entire sixteen years of life living underground as a lab rat.”

I forget to blink for a second. Did he say a lab rat? I want to inquire more about this world this boy grew up in. Clearly, they don’t respect his Majesty or proper manners. But I don’t want to stir up any emotion he may not know how to keep down. If he's never been taught proper manners, who's to say he knows how to handle his own emotions? It's not like I can control him. If anything gets out of hand, it'll be a literal fist fight. I might have amazing Martain powers, but my actual physical abilites are lackluster. I decide to be civil towards the boy. He might be a Hollow and is currently holding himself hostage in my own home, but he hasn't actual done anything to harm me. 

“What’s your name? I’m Jeremiziah. Jeremi for short.”

He smiles and extends his hand, I flinch away. At first, I think he’s going to hit me. But he takes my hand with his other one and guides it to mine. He holds it in an embrace and lifts it up and down lightly, then he drops it.

“That was called shaking hands. And I’m Michael,” he states.

“What kind of a name is Michael?” I ask, rather rudely but it’s all I can think of to continue the conversation.

“A human one,” Michael shrugs.

“Is ‘shaking hands’ a human thing, too?” I ask.

“Ding ding ding! Jeremiziah takes the cake for ‘Martian Most Aware That Humans Exist’.”

I chuckle despite myself. Michael, even with his odd name, is kind of spectacular. Not in the ‘he can do most anything’ kind of way. But he certainly is a spectacle alright. Everything about him screams foreign. Foreign hair, foreign skin, foreign origin, foreign clothes, and a foreign name. He even knows about human interactions. How could a Hollow get such information when Gifted ones aren’t even allowed to know about human regions? Everything about him is mysterious. He probably knows enough about Earth to draw me a map, yet he lives underground. 

“What’s with this … lost prince thing? You couldn’t be referring to Deimos, could you?”

“Duh, I’m talking about Deimos. I’ve been sent on a mission to find the lost prince and start the revolution by his side!”

“That little boy died in that accident all those years ago. Him and his mother. Can’t believe even Hollows gossip about it still,” I groan, “You know even if they didn’t find his body there’s no way he would’ve survived in the Mars atmosphere without proper oxygen.”

“Oh so you’re one of the non-believers, huh?” He jokes, poking his long index finger against my side.

I brush his finger away. Of course people down below would still talk about the most gossiped rumor in all of Justaria’s history. Years ago, sometime after the Third Era began, nearly all of the royal family jumped in their luxurious hovercraft for a ride out in the Martian planes. The royal driver somehow got into an accident, which killed himself and the queen. The eldest son Phobos was safe and only suffered minor injuries. The younger son, Deimos, was never to be seen again. It was a tragedy for Justaria. Their queen and their second heir, one dead and the other gone. For years they tried to find the boy, but specialists gave up since he was only four years old. There was no evidence to support that he lived, seeing as how there’s no oxygen on Mars and the temperatures of that day were a high 130.

“You know that boy is dead, Michael. Why waste your time?”

“Everyone and their mother thinks that boy is alive! People say he traveled to Earth with escaped Hollows or even is living out in the Martian planes like some non-oxygen breathing alien! How can hundreds of specialists search all of Mars and not find a single trace of him? I’m telling you, that boy is out there and it’s my job to find him.”

“Okay, so what? Let’s say the prince is alive and let’s say you find him. What next? Do you think you’re citizenship will be back or something? Is this all a political move for Hollows to have more rights?”

Michael starts, “Well, it would be nice to finally get recognition from my government. But nope! I’ve been told to take him straight to the humans who gave me the orders. If we find this kid, they need him.”

I laugh, “Yeah, for what?”

Michael scoots even closer than before he showed me his series of numbers. I can see the dark orbs that float in his eyes, even in the dim light of my bedroom, his eyes illuminate. His eyes draw me back to my surroundings. My Nuroport is finally dead, its life-force must have died out ages ago, before I started talking to Michael. Everything he had to say kept me hooked, I couldn’t help but lose my train of thought.

“Jeremi,” whispers, “We’re going to end the war. Deimos has the power to fight his father. Everyone knew it the moment he was born. His energy rages inside of him, like a ball. People say the king tried to assassinate Deimos because he knew how powerful he would grow up to be. They said Deimos was throwing around and manipulating the Martialists by the time he could talk.”

I gulp down. I know he said he needs to find Deimos, but now I worry. This boy sounds dangerous. I remember hearing about his power and how it was superior to his older brother’s and maybe even his father’s one day. But I never knew he could mind control military police at such a young age.

“Hey, snap out of it,” Michael pulls me from my trance, “I need your help Jeremi. You’re the only Gifted one who can help me and who I can trust. I can’t find him alone. I can’t do this alone. I know you’ll be leaving everything you know. But do you really want to continue living this picture perfect life?”

I look around my room. It’s the only one I’ve ever had. I’ve known no other life other than this space here. I’ve known no other parents besides my own. I’ve never even been outside of my province, now this escaped Hollow wants me to join him in touring the nation for a dead prince, who - if he isn’t dead - could kill us.

“I don’t want to abandon you. You’ve dragged me into this and the Martialists will think I’m an asset if you’re caught out there. But what about my parents? I can’t leave them. What about my studies?”

“You’re Gifted, right? Can’t you just manipulate your parents into thinking you’re on a school trip?” Michael asks.

“I never used my powers like that before. I can’t do that to them. Plus, how do I know you’re not one of the spies working for the royal family, trying to recruit people who would willingly revolt just to sentence them to death,” I point out.

Michael looks at me dumbly, “They … They do that?”

I look at him with an undesirnable face. He isn’t kidding when he says he’s an outsider, he's just a Hollow dwelling underground. He knows so much about humans, but so little about Martians. If he’ll tell me more about humans while I pretend to help him look for a dead boy, I’ll go with him. It takes me only a moment to reconsider, I stand up and dust myself off from the floor. He follows in my steps.

I sigh and say, “Yes. I’ll help you find Prince Deimos, under one condition: You don’t get me killed. Just know if anything happens to us, I’m throwing you under the bus in seconds. Got it?”

He smiles wide. But before I can comprehend his adorable glee, I hear gunshots echo through the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked my offical sneak peak at my new work! I really think you guys are gonna love it. It's something I've been working on the side for a while now. I hope to offically start uploading it in mid December, maybe? I also want to make it known that the first two chapters you've seen might be altered when it's offically released. I'm still taking suggestions! However, my birthday is tomorrow! I will most likely have my friend Melissa write another chapter tomorrow. Until Sunday, Sky.
> 
> Good morning, Justaria. Before you report to your morning duties, please state the national anthem. If anyone is seen not participating, you will be arrested immediately. Please repeat the anthem:
> 
> O', we say with flags raised high  
> 'How we love the bright Mars sky!'  
> For we are so pleased to be  
> Deemed the highest liberty  
> Here in Justaria, Justaria!  
> The stars gleam only for thee  
> And here she is, with hope and promises  
> Justaria the grand!


	25. Day Twenty-five - Cinderella AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came from my own mind.

“Jeremiah, Jeremiah!” Cried the stepsisters.

The two girls came bounding down the steps of the grand hall, each carrying a hamper filled to the brim with clothing. At the bottom of the staircase, the sisters were walking so fast that they nearly trampled on their stepbrother. He managed to straighten himself before falling onto the marble floor.

“Yes, stepsisters?” Replied the boy.

Chloe, the eldest stepsister, whipped her head to the side to banish the fallen strands of hair before replying.

“You, stepbrother, must clean these wretched clothes. Don’t fret, mine are not half as filthy as Brooke’s.”

Brooke, obviously offended by her sister’s jest, stuck her tongue out at Chloe. Jeremy shuddered at how unladylike it was of Brooke to show her tongue. He often found himself hiding snickers and twinges of secondhand embarrassment from his stepsisters. They were the most horribly unmannered pair of ladies he’s ever seen. Not that he’s seen many.

“I care not for what you think of my clothes, Jeremiah. As long as you take precaution with my undergarments and other fragile pieces, I’ll never complain,” Brooke said with a wink to her sister.

But Jeremy knew she would indeed complain. The two _never_ stopped complaining. For the past seven years of his life all he heard was constant complaints. If it wasn’t to Jeremy, it was to their mother, which was Jeremy’s stepmother. The horrible, wretched woman she was. Jeremy was a well minded boy however and he would never dare to utter such words. He kept his mouth clear of insults for fear his step family would overhear. No matter how unfair or disgusting they treated him, he knew to keep quiet. After all, he was their ward.

The two sisters stood still as rocks as they presented the boy with their hampers, each with clothes pushed so far deep into the hamper they would need to be ironed to get the wrinkles out. Jeremy nodded and took the hampers, stacking them on top of each other to make the trip outside easier. Before he could even take a full step, he felt the tip of a heel block his path. His foot made contact with the heel and he fell forward, the contents of the hampers spilling on the floor of the foyer. Behind him, Jeremy could hear the shrill cackle of his stepsisters.

“You better wash these clothes twice now that you’ve dirtied them even more!” Mocked Brooke.

Jeremy managed to pull himself off the floor before stepmother appeared at the top of the staircase. It was undeniable the figure was her, with her black gown cascading onto the floor. Her attire was always unusual of a lady. She was never caught wearing any shade lighter than dark black and her corsets never shined gems. A popular style amongst women was the pastel, light colored gowns with rhinestone lined corsets. Jeremy should know, considering he’s had to wash many similar garments his stepsisters owned. She stood, unmoving, watching the trio in the foyer. A rough and deep hum echoed in the large hall followed by the _tap, tap_ ing of her ivory cane.

“What is going on here?” She bellowed.

Chloe shot a glance towards Brooke, a secret shared between sisters. Suddenly, Brooke pulled a long face, her eyes casted down on the strewn clothes. Chloe unstraightened her back, slouching in an almost depressed position. Jeremy wasn’t daft. He knew the two went out of their way every day to cause him trouble. Why should today be no different?

Chloe went first, saying, “Oh lord, Mother! Jeremiah taunted us in the hall just now as we were going to do our laundry. He ripped the baskets from our hands and tossed them onto the floor! Just to spite us!”

“Yes, Mother. Jeremiah is an awfully crude boy! I know not why you continue to let him live with us,” continued Brooke.

“He is here to serve us, dear Brooke. As our ward. And if this incident is true, then I’ll deal with the tormentor myself,” stated Stepmother.

“But Mother! If it is true he’s our ward, then why must he be so cruel? You should just cast him out of the household! I’d love to see him continue his ways on the harsh streets of London,” spat Chloe.

“Enough. You have no rightful say on what I _should_ do. Brooke, Chloe. You are dismissed.”

“But Mother!” Objected Brooke.

Stepmother raised her cane off the floor, gesturing to the second wing of the manor. Her stern demeanor sent the girls off to their respective bedrooms. They were so frightened by her silent yet ominous threat, they nearly ran. Jeremy wanted to enjoy his brief moment on victory, it wasn’t every day his stepsisters were reprimanded by their mother. But Jeremy knew his punishment would be far worse.

“Jeremiah. Come here,” beckoned Stepmother.

Jeremy climbed the winding staircase, he counted each step on his way, trying to bide time. He counted 32 white marble stairs before reaching the top. Stepmother already at the top of the stairs, so that way she stood over Jeremy. Jeremy was rather tall for a growing boy, nearing 5 foot 9 inches, he stood at the same height as Stepmother. Since he was 14, she made sure to always be just slightly taller every time they conversed. Jeremy stopped on the 32nd step, not daring to look her in the face.

“I give you warmth, food, clothing, a bed, a roof. Yet you torment my daughters? I am under no obligation to keep you around, Jeremiah,” Stepmother’s voice was near a whisper but was sterner than a rock, “You are my ward. I expect you to behave as such. I do not want to hear of this happening ever again.”

“Y-yes, Stepmother,” whimpered Jeremy.

For a moment, she seemed pleased. Her cane looked loose in her usual tight grip, her eyebrows fell into a more relaxed state, and her gaze drifted elsewhere. But Jeremy knew there was no pleasure for Stepmother. She was in a constant state of dominance. Jeremy had never once seen the woman smile, even before his father died, she always kept the same distanced look.

“I dismiss you to your daily activities,” Stepmother said.

Jeremy let his breath escape him. He turned to walk down the step, but Stepmother caught hold of his hand before he could flee her. Her grip held on so tight, it nearly cut off circulation.

“Don’t cross me again, Jeremiah. _Ever_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Today is my birthday! Sooooo, I got lazy and decided to copy and paste a chapter of a fic I worked on a while ago. It's a Cinderella AU for BMC. Did you guys see the Instagram post off the offical tworivertheatre page. Any thoughts on what it is? Until tomorrow, Sky.


	26. Day Twenty-six - Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was sorta kinda inspired by SquipBlip's comment on cuddling.

"Run, Jeremy. We need to flee to the keep before it crumbles!" Michael yells.

I don’t know where I am but I obey Michael and run. I’m running on hard, unpaved road made of stone. Michael is only a few feet in front of me, running faster, stronger, and better than me. I try to quicken my pace so I can reach him, but he always seems to get faster just when I’m about to touch him. As we run, I finally get a quick chance to look around us. The world we’re in is shrouded by an ugly, grey cloud. The sky is darkened when I’m sure it must be day.

We pass cabins and shacks made of cobblestone and hay. Other people run with us, all screaming and crying. They look … different. They’re wearing these odd clothes, ones made with harsh linens and are so dirty that I can’t tell if it’s dye or not. Some are wearing bonnets and leather gloves, a fashion item that wouldn’t even be considered fashion today. Everything looks like it’s in a movie about the medieval times. I look down at my own clothes as I run. I’m wearing worse clothes than the rest. I’m barley covered in a tan, dirtied tunic that only stops at my knee. My feet are covered in makeshift foot wraps, they’re such poor quality that they’re already coming undone after only a few minutes of running.

Michael, only a few feet ahead of me, is wearing much better clothing than me. In fact, his outfit looks more like armor. He’s covered in a deep blue tunic that’s protected with leather straps. A hide helmet sits on top of his head. And he’s actually wearing a form of pants, they covered his entire leg until they get to his feet. His feet are armored in iron and leather boots, certainly ones made for battle. He’s even branding an axe of some kind in his holster, but what battle is there to fight? Why are we running from something?

Michael stops running and pulls me into an embrace, his body covering mine. He cries out, tears spilling from his eyes. I reach up to touch his face, removing the helmet he’s wearing. His hair looks crazy, which I’m sure is caused by the sweat he formed from underneath the helmet. I want to ask what’s wrong, but for some reason I can’t. He looks at me deeply as people from all around us scream and cry for help. I try to push him off. If everyone else is running, shouldn’t we? What’s going on that I can’t see? Michael only holds me closer as I attempt to push him off.

“Jeremiah. This is it, the end for us all. The World-Eater is here,” he states.

What is he talking about? The World-Eater? Who is that and why is he so terrifying? Where are we? I have so many questions that I’m sure Michael would know the answers to, but my mouth can’t form the words. More people cry out as all around me, as soldiers dressed similarly to Michael charge at something behind us. Their war cries shake me as I hear their blades clash to something heavy and unearthly. Someone next to us cries for our help, something flings him into air before we can even hear his plea. Finally, my body allows me to look behind us at whatever it is that’s causing this.

My knees shake and my mouth goes numb. Standing before me, is a gigantic dragon. He must be fifteen feet tall and forty feet wide. Its skin is black as night, its eyes bright yellow. Dozens of soldiers surround the dragon, each screaming as they bring down heavy steel axes and swords onto the beast. The dragon only roars and tilts its head back, as if it’s laughing at humanity. As its head swoops down, its mouth opens wide and easily snatches a soldier from the ground and chomps down on his body. The dragon rears its head back to swallow the man whole. I want to look away now. I want to look away! But my body isn’t letting me. I’m being forced to stare at the monster as it kills innocent men.

Michael’s arms let me go. He pushes me to the ground, I can only watch as he begins to walk away. I cry out to him, screaming something I can’t comprehend. He keeps walking, drawing his axe as he draws near the beast. I think I hear him say something, although he’s so far away from me now. He brings his axe down on the dragon’s nose, it roars in pain. Michael takes multiple steps back. Him and a dozen soldiers are silent for a brief moment. Then, Michael charges at the dragon, his axe raised high above his head. Before he can swing, the dragon has him in his jaws.

I cry out, screaming and screaming for the World-Eater to let Michael go. I see his blue tunic slowly grow red as he struggles inside the monsters mouth. After a few seconds of fighting, Michael’s axe drops to the ground. Soldiers from all around, being retreating. They’ve lost too many men to continue this battle. I’ve lost Michael. Before I can leave or do anything, I hear Michael say something to me. I’m almost sure it’s the same phrase he said before that I couldn’t hear.

“Just tell me already, Jeremy. Tell me,” he yells.

I scream as I wake up. My body shaking from the trauma. I look around me, I’m still in Michael’s house. I’m lying on his bed, only inches away from him. I bring my knees up to my chest as I let out sobs. It might have been a dream, but it was the scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life. I try to silence my cries. As I sob, I feel Michael shake my shoulder. I look up at him, he looks tired and concerned.

“Jeremy? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Michael spitballs questions at me.

I shake my head and return it back to its place in my arms. I let out a shaky sigh as Michael’s hand leaves my shoulder. I hope he goes back to sleeping so I can cry it out in peace, but before I can blink, Michael’s arms are wrapped around me. He pulls me in, smothering my fears away. I blush at the contact. Neither of us wear shirts to bed, a common phenomenon amongst boys, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to feel his bare skin. But why does it make me feel so … excited all of a sudden?

“What’s wrong, Jer?” Michael whispers.

I shake my head, not wanting to sound stupid in front of Michael and because his touch has me at a loss for words. I feel his head lay on my shoulder, his arms wrapping around me even tighter. Just like in the dream. Before he was eaten by the World-Eater.

“I-I h-h-ha-had I real-ly ba-a-ad dr-dr-dream,” I stammer.

I mentally curse myself for stuttering so much. I’ve always had a stutter but it’s extremely profound when I’m upset. Ever since I was a kid, I’d rather throw a tantrum by myself so no one would hear my extension stutter. I look the other way, my arms covering my head so Michael can’t see my humiliation.

“Hmm,” Michael hums, “Can you tell me about it?”

I want to. I want to tell him about the World-Eater and the soldiers and the weird clothes. But something about the dream makes me think it was so much more than that. The way the world was shaped. The way Michael said those last words, it all makes me think it means something. I can’t describe the feeling to him of the dream, nor do I want to further embarrass myself by stuttering the entire time. I know I shouldn’t feel self-conscious around Michael about my stutter, but I can’t help myself. I shake my head, already feeling guilty.

“Jer, you can tell me. I’m right here, it’s over, yeah?”

I sigh again. Michael is so reassuring, but it’s all so overwhelming. The dream, the World-Eater, Michael’s skin touching mine. I lean into him more, wanting to feel more secure. Michael’s head adjust so it’s me who’s laying on him. My head is placed in the crook of his neck. Michael gently runs smooth fingers in circles on my back. I wish I could be like that. Michael has always been so charming. He’s caressing his best friend’s body like it’s no big deal while I shake and cry. I let him rub my back a bit longer before I open my mouth.

“I-I just, um. Y-you were th-this sol-sol-soldier, yeah? An-and you wer-re protect-tecting me from this h-h-h-huge dragon. And it-it-it killed you,” I manage to say.

“That sounds scary. I’m sorry you had to see that, Jeremy. But it’s alright. I’m not dead and you’re okay, too. Let’s try to get some sleep, okay?” Michael responds.

I shake my head no. I slightly push myself off Michael, my hands propping my against Michael’s chest. I stare at him in the dark, trying to find his brown eyes. I finally let tears spill, trying to keep my voice down so it doesn’t crack. If Michael hears me crying, he’ll throw a fit and start cuddling me even more. Which isn’t what I need right now. I need Michael to understand how deep the dream was. I try to make words with my mouth, but just like in the dream, nothing is coming out.

“Is something wrong? What is it?” Michael asks.

I keep staring at him. I want to tell him about what he said to me in the dream. What I know it means and why it’s so frightening, but I can’t. Was the dream some bad omen? Is it prophesying the future? Is I don’t tell Michael, will he be eaten by the World-Eater again? Tears seep out of my eyes as I think of what to say to him. I feel his hand lift my chin up, I can feel the concern coming off of him in waves.

“Just tell me already, Jeremy. Tell me,” he says.

My heart drops in my chest. This has to be fate. There’s never been another coincidence like that in my life. I take a deep breath, his has to be done. Some God is playing a cruel joke on me. If I say this and Michael hates me, it’s all over. Is this what the dream wanted? Fine. I take another breath and try to tell him.

“I-I … lo-love you, M-Mich-Michael.”

I wait for the blow. I wait for Michael to kick me out of bed, to band me from his home, to tell everyone in school that I’m a fag, to punch me. But nothing comes. I look at Michael, if only I could see his face. I feel the breath leave him, his chest underneath me falls.

“Oh, thank God,” Michael sighs.

“W-What?” I ask.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that since, like … the Weird Al Yankovich concert, Jer.”

It’s my turn for my breath to leave me. My eyes widen. Did Michael just say he liked me? He’s obviously lying. He’s just trying to make me feel better because he’s so nice. He doesn’t actual like me, if anything, he likes girls like Brook and Chloe: cute, popular people who don’t have a stutter or are ugly and completely unlikeable. Like me. I shake my head, smiling despite tears still in my eyes.

“No, Jeremy,” Michael says, “I’m serious. I never really knew I thought of you that way until that concert. Something just clicked inside of me that day, yeah know?”

No, I don’t know! I never know with Michael.

“Y-you don’t li-li-ike me. N-not that w-way,” I say.

“Dude! I’ve always loved you, but that night. I just … I don’t know. You looked so different in the Blue Room, like grown up. I stopped looking at you like my childhood friend and started looking at you like a … a l-l-lover, um. Yeah?” Michael nervously laughs.

My eyes must look like full circle because I’m truly shocked. I start laughing at Michael, my emotions seeping out in an odd, almost hysterical laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Michael asks.

“The Mi-Michael Mell I-I kno-know does-doesn’t st-st-stutter!”

Michael blushes and playfully hits my arm. I gawk at him as he pulls me closer to him in bed. His head lays on top of mine, which is laying peacefully on his chest. We agree on talking about this in the morning, leaving the awkwardness to drift away as he try to sleep. I let Michael rub circles on my back until I’m fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still taking suggestions! Only a few days left you guys! I'll try to get as many prompts done as possible before the end of NaNoWriMo. So send in your best ones if you haven't already! Until tomorrow, Sky.


	27. Day Twenty-seven - Cinderella AU Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted by the lovely jellybop to give this a part two.

Jeremy’s hands turned blue with cold as he washed his stepfamilies clothes. It’s the same every day, wash his corset, wash this blouse, iron his gown, and dry this pair of bloomers. Half the time Jeremy felt like he was a maid, living only to serve his stepfamily. The warm water he ran for the laundry already grew icy cold in the November weather. He quickly tried to wash the remainder of the clothes and hang them so he could warm himself inside. He knew Stepmother would be furious if she saw him come back inside when the job wasn’t finished. Jeremy started to ring out Brooke’s blouse and walk over to the clothing line to hang it.

“Heya, Jeremiah!”

Jeremy jumped at the sound and turned around to see his best friend, Christine Canigula. He raised his hand to wave and smiled at his lifelong friend. He’s known Christine since they were children. Their parents had arranged for them to marry when they were older, so the two spent a lot of time togather growing up. Jeremy would’ve been given his father’s estate and Christine would’ve been married as Lady Heere. If only the Hermia didn’t marry his father before he could marry Christine. Jeremy would’ve been a Lord, owning his father’s land and been living a happy life with Christine.

Hermia Heere, maiden name Lockshire. The horrible woman had swooped in and stole his father’s heart and changed his mind. She somehow convinced Lord Heere to give everything he owned to her, which she would in turn entrust her two daughters with. Nothing was left for Jeremy. His own father was bewitched by Hermia, who seduced him into changing his will weeks before he would die of illness. It wasn’t fair. Jeremy tried to conceal his anger as he walked towards Christine to bow.

“It’s very lovely seeing you here, Ms. Canigula,” Jeremy said.

Christine bowed as well, her dress scraping the grass. Jeremy smiled at her etiquette. Christine was a proper lady, unlike Brooke and Chloe, whose slob tendencies shine through even the thickest of corsets.

“I say the same to you, Jeremiah,” Christine said.

Jeremy internally winced at the phrasing. Despite his father dying three years ago, he still wasn’t used to the informal way of saying his name. His entire life he was Mister Heere, son of Lord Heere. It was a surprise to him when once his father died, and it was discovered he would be given nothing, that people can now only address him as Jeremiah, and nothing else. At his father’s funeral, people were aghast that the smart, bright, sweet young Heere would be granted nothing. He would be a ward of Lady Heere, stuck tending to a family he’s never known in a house he should own.

“Washing the girls’ clothes again?” She asked.

Jeremy nodded, sighing as he gestured to his stepfamilies immense amount of clothes. Christine sighed with him, rolling her eyes at the just the idea of washing that many clothes.

“It’s because of you that I stopped letting the servants treat me like a baby,” Christine went on, “I saw the heavy work you do, and know my servants do twice as much. I hate seeing father throw them around like dirt, it sickens me!”

Jeremy smiled at Christine’s wit. She was always a smart girl, very well read and give a higher education than most girls can afford or care. Her mother always pushed her studies, forcing her cowardly father to hire numerous tutors and teachers to teach their youngest daughter. Christine was the only one of her sisters to ever care about education, she often exceled in subjects Jeremy lacked in. She was smart, lovable, and very kind. That’s what Jeremy liked about her. She might be a woman, but always let people know when she’s unhappy. Usually in the form of a three page thesis paper.

“You care too much, Christine. Too big a heart will get you in trouble one day,” Jeremy mocks.

Christine’s eyes light up at the mention of ‘heart’. She throws her eyes straight on Jeremy’s.

“Jeremiah! Haven’t you heard the rumors about the next ball?”

Now it was Jeremy’s turn to roll his eyes. Christine and just about every girl in the land only ever talk of the countless royal balls. Christine might be intelligent, but she’s still a girl who loves gossip, like most. It’s not like he can blame the girls of the kingdom for fawning over the royal balls, they’re usually very grand and beautiful. It’s been years since Jeremy’s been to one, but he remembers the bright lights, the unbelievable orchestra, and the marvelous food and drinks. The whole occasion is most definitely worth talking about, but not when the king throws one once a month.

“Christine, you know this ball will be just as grand as the last,” he stated.

The young girl starts shaking her head wildly, black curls bounce left and right. She beams at Jeremy with intense eyes.

“No, Jeremiah! They’re saying the prince will choose a bride at the ball. How exciting!”

That’s a much more reasonable excuse to be excited about. The prince is very handsome, most girls of the kingdom would die to be his new bride. Not just because they’ll be rich, but because he is a genuinely well liked young man. He’s supposedly kindhearted but also very intelligent, always knowing what to do next. Thinking about him more makes Jeremy think how wonderfully he would work with Christine. Not that it would ever happen just because they’re so similar. He’s sure despite how wonderful the prince may seem, he’s drawn only to looks, like every man. Jeremy should know. If his father knew Hermia would be so cruel, certainly he wouldn’t let her take the Heere name.

“Would you like to be Queen?” Jeremy asked.

“Well who wouldn’t? Living a life so grand seems wonderful, but I’m not too sure it would be very fulfilling. You know I’m a more adventurous girl who doesn’t want to settle down so quickly. He’s only 18, shouldn’t they give him a few more years to celebrate being young?”

Jeremy shrugs. Perhaps the king should wait to marry off his only son, but rumor is the king’s life is slowly fading. He might not have time left to wait for his son to be properly married at an older age. That is, if the rumors are true. Which they never are.

“We should attend the ball together, Jeremiah! We never spend time together anymore. I miss my best friend,” Christine offers a wide smile.

Jeremy knows the weight of that question. It isn’t a simple invitation, it’s a bargain. What she’s really asking is for Jeremy to beg his Stepmother for weeks and do tedious amounts of work to get a simple answer. Which could easily be a no. Stepmother is not easily persuaded when it comes to anything Jeremy might enjoy. Jeremy sighs and shakes his head.

“You know Lady Heere will say no. She despises me having any fun whatsoever.”

Christine’s joy faded away. Jeremy could see the anger silently seething underneath of her. If there’s anyone that hates Hermia more than Jeremy, it’s Christine. She’s not very accepting of authority figures, especially if they’re ruthless. Christine has always been about free spirit and unhinged lives. The very thought of Hermia bothers he beyond belief.

“I hate that retched woman! I’m sure she can afford to send her stepson to a ball, even if only for an hour. She’s a pitiful old hag,” Christine deadpans.

Jeremy loves the way Christine says what he’s always wanted to say himself. He smiles at her sudden outburst that most would find unfitting of a woman. But Jeremy thinks all women should be filled with emotion and determination like Christine.

“You know I agree with you, but it still doesn’t change the answer. She’s going to say no to me attending the ball. It’d take a miracle,” Jeremy responded.

“I’ll beg if I have to! I’ll sell my eyes! For God’s sake, if she could only give you the time of day.”

Suddenly, a bell is rung. Christine rolls her eyes as she grabs her purse sitting on the grass.

“There’s the servant’s dinner bell. I have to go, Jeremiah. But please promise me you’ll ask her about the ball. Please?” She begged.

“I will. But there’s no guarantee.”

Christine smiles at Jeremy as she exits his backyard garden, leaving him to finish the loads of laundry he still has left to do.

It’s an hour later when Jeremy finally has time to begin cooking dinner. He knew persuading Stepmother would take work and dedication. He decided in cooking her favorite meal, also mixing her favorite alcoholic drink to go with it. It takes another hours for Jeremy to properly cook the meal, glazing it pepper and salt. He serves Brooke and Chloe’s plates. The sisters make their way down as fast as pigs getting ready for a meal. They smirk at Jeremy as they pass by.

“Smells like poison, Jeremiah. I wonder if this is the time you’ll kill us. Or maybe you only poisoned Mother’s for us to get a taste of what it’s like being an orphan,” mocked Brooke.

Jeremy actually stopped. That was a lowly joke, even for someone as mean as Brooke. He turned to face her and her sister, even Chloe seemed shocked at her words.

“I’ll be damned, Brooke! You’ve been extra snotty today,” teased her sister.

Brooke again stuck her tongue out at Chloe and began stuffing her fat face with the meal. Jeremy stood there for a moment, recollecting his mind before going upstairs to deliver the food to his stepmother. He was often laughed at by Chloe and Brooke when they were younger about his mother dying when he was young. The only memory he had of her was when he was about three years old. She read him a bedtime story. It was about a little boy who got lost in the woods and couldn’t find his way home.

“ ‘Then, the boy cried out, ‘Help me! Someone help me! I’ve lost my way!’ He cried for hours, Jeremy,” said his mother.

The young Jeremy was laid on his bed, covering his face with the blanket. He doesn’t remember his mother’s face, but he remembers her looking beautiful. Everyone had said she was a gorgeous woman and his father was always seen as somewhat ugly, it was a wonder why anyone with such beauty would waste it on someone so much uglier. But people claimed it showed she truly loved his father.

“W-what happened to the boy, mama?” Young Jeremy asked.

“Lets find out together. ‘The boy traveled the woods until someone called his name. He wondered towards the voice and at the end of the forest, he saw his mommy. He cried and cried while she carried him home. After his bath, she warned him of never going out into the woods alone again. She told him, ‘Son, you are the most precious gift I have. I won’t let anything take you away from me.’ Then, she kissed her baby goodnight. The End,’” his mother read.

Jeremy, happy hearing the story end nicely, was officially tuckered out. His mother placed the book back on its shelf and returned to kiss Jeremy goodnight. The only memory Jeremy ever had of his mother ended abruptly as it started. He wished he knew his mother more. After her death, his father refused to talk about her. The people were right, they were utterly in love and Jeremy’s father was forever in mourning. Of course, until Hermia and her ungrateful daughters joined their family.

“Are you going to stand there while we eat? Your presence bother is bothering me, go find someone else to bother,” Chloe stated.

Jeremy hid his face as he began to carry the tray full of his stepmother’s food to her room. This had to convince her of letting him go to the ball with Christine. He looked down, silently praying for her to be cooperative, before finally opening the door to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last few days to comment suggestions! Anyway, thank you to jellybop for encouraging me to not leave the Cinderella AU unfinished. I'm highly considering making this a mini-series to hype you guys up for my Sci-Fi fic I know you guys love. I'll need lots of time to finish the Sci-Fi fic and I'm sure something simply like this would entertai you guys until the Sci-Fi fic is near completion. What do you think of my plan? Until tomorrow, Sky.


	28. Day Twenty-eight - Bottom Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was prompted by both Carol A and Avengely.

It’s three in the morning, much too late to be sinning. Yet, here we are. I’m towering over Michael while he writhes beneath me. He said he wanted something better this morning. I’m only giving him what he wants. His wrists are tied to the bedframe, his metal frame shifting as he struggles to get them free. His legs are in a similar fashion, tightly tied to the frame at the end of the bed. He’s completely sprawled out.

Just for me!

I giggle as he tries to speak behind the ballgag. His plump lips look delicious around the ball. Just looking at him struggle is beyond hot to me. Each whine, each moan, each tear, and each bead of sweat: They’re all so intoxicating. I feel like I’m engulfed in flames, my body heating up at the sight of Michael. I go to touch his face, wiping away spit from his chin. He quickly darts his head back. I tsk, letting him know I didn’t like that. I can see his eyes grow wider, his pupils shrink so rapidly.

“Mikey, why are you disobeying me?” I ask.

I can see the unspoken snarl even with the ballgag in place. Michael is furious with me. As he should be. It’s not every day your boyfriend forces you into testing out his newest kink, tying you to the bed and teasing you. I’ve been sucking Michael off for the past hour, lightly running my tongue over his member right up until he’s about to burst. Then, stopping. I laugh when he cries out, hips bucking up for me to continue. All he wants to do is come.

I look down at Michael’s cock, glistening with my spit. I lean over him again, my face coming so close to his. He closes his eyes. I gently grab his cock in my hands, stroking up and down, up and down. I see the want in his eyes, the tiredness, the pain. But I know he loves it. He can’t get enough of this. If it weren’t for work and responsibilities, Michael would devout himself to sex twenty-four-seven. I can’t really blame him for being addicted to it. He got me addicted to it as well. We can’t go two days with wantonly fucking each other. Sometimes we’re rough and fast, other times we’re gentle and loving. Most times, we’re being greedy assholes, using each other for fetishes and kinks. Like tonight.

I don’t stop stroking him. This might be the thirtieth time I’ve teased him these past few hours. He cries out from behind the ballgag. I’m sure he’s calling me a dirty pervert or worse from behind the toy. I love it, and he knows I do. I laugh as I quicken my pace, tugging his dick this way and that. I feel his hips begin to buckle, clashing with mine.

“You wanna come, hmm?” I question.

I get a frustrated moan from below me. I giggle again and slow the stroking down. I hear Michael cry out, pressing his wrists hard into the rope that restrains him. I love seeing him like this, but I love hearing him more. I lean up to Michael’s face. The poor boy, crying and sweating and drooling for me. It’s incredibly hot. I undo the ballgag, pulling out the toy from his mouth. I hear a satisfiying ‘pop’ noise as the ball comes out of Michael’s mouth. I set it down next to him on the bed.

“Feel better?”

Michael doesn’t respond. He only pants, his chest rising and falling with grace. I smirk as I tug especially hard on his dick. Michael cries out, his scream pure music to my ears.

“You didn’t answer me, Mikey,” I warn.

“I-I … Please, Jer. F-F-Fuck. Let me come, baby. I can’t take it anymore!” Michael whines.

His begging is like a symphony to me. It’s almost like Michael is a musician, his constant pleading and begging a beautiful melody some old, dead composer created. And I’m the conductor. I go back to a painfully slow pace, causing Michael to groan yet again. He looks at me with such lust and anger. I can’t tell which is hotter.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you come. I guess I’m feeling kinda generous,” I state.

I can still see Michael’s anger, but I know he won’t pick a fight with me because he’ll run the risk of not being allowed to come. I quicken my pace one last time, pulling hard on Michael like I know he loves. I hear his beautiful moans from above encircle me. I just keep stroking harder and faster. It isn’t long before Michael has to come. This time, I let him. He cries out, yelling curses as his seed shoots out of him like a bullet. It mostly lands on my chest. I laugh as he pants, letting the aftershocks take him.

I pull back to undo his restraints. I place the four sets of rope to the side, letting Michael stretch his surely tired limbs. He snarls at me, his face this time much more exhausted than before. I smirk as I leave the room to grab a towel to wipe myself off with. In a matter of minutes, I’m rid of Michael’s come. When I come back, Michael looks to be fast asleep. I frown. I wanted to spend a bit more time with him before he dozed off, but I guess that’s what I get for teasing him until dawn.

I retreat under the covers, laying down besides my boyfriend. I pull out my own member, hard from watching Michael for so long. I slowly begin stroking myself, letting only small whimpers out. It takes me a total of four minutes for me to nearly reach my climax. I feel it building in my stomach, warm and intense. I buck my hips up, waiting for release. I feel hands restrain my wrists, removing them from their position on my cock.

“What? Do you think you’re allowed to come after all of that?” Michael asks from behind me.

I laugh and try to swat his hand away, but Michael’s grasp on me is strong. I struggle against his grip, but he holds a tight dominance over me. He changes his position, firmly wrapping his body around mine. I try to move my arms, but he’s got them easily pinned. I struggle for a while, trying to twist my way out of his hold, but it’s no use. Michael laughs at me.

“Goodnight, Jer,” Michael taunts.

I feel his lips collide with my cheek. I stop trying and end up falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last two days for suggestions! I hope you liked the smutty, bottom-centric Michael chapter. A number of people asked for this specific prompt so I added a bit of everything to it, haha. Anyway, only two more chapters! Send those prompts in if you haven't already! Until tomorrow, Sky.  
> I also have a instagram!  
> @skyjoos


	29. Day Twenty-nine - Transgender Jeremy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was given to me by the lovely Bubbly_Kandy.

Jeremy begins to fidget with his cardigan, pulling apart string after string. He’s not even half way to feeling less nervous and he already has a large pile stored in his front jeans pocket. It’s a bad nervous tick he has, pulling apart his clothing until his father has to take him back to JCPenny’s buy a new wardrobe. Jeremy hates shopping at JCPenney’s. Everything’s so feminine, but he would never tell his dad he doesn’t like the store because his dad thinks he loves it.

His dad also thinks he’s a girl.

Jeremy knew he was transgender since the beginning of sophomore year. The school counselor had come into his English class to give yet another ‘Bully Prevention’ speech. Jeremy was sitting next to his best friend, Michael Mell. It was uncharacteristic for a girl to be best friends with a boy, so most people assumed the two were dating. But Jeremy would have to remind them every time that they’re just friends. Although, he can’t deny that being with Michael would be amazing.

In the counselor’s speech, he brought up what not to discriminate people on. Things like race, gender, ethnicity, etc. On the board was a big, red underlined word. After looking around the classroom, Jeremy could see the confusion on people’s face at the unusual word. But since everyone would’ve rather slept than ask questions, no one dared ask what the mysterious word meant. But if there’s one person who thinks they know it all and wants to show it off to anyone nearby, it’s Jenna Roland.

The young underclassmen raised her head with confidence. She turned to her best friend at the time, Madeline, and very obviously on purpose, said a little too loudly: “It’s a shame what those transgender people go through. It’s not their fault something’s wrong with them making them think they’re the gender they weren’t born being.”

The counselor rolled his eyes and skipped to the next slide, going on to talk about making friends not foes. Most people disregarded Jenna’s obvious snobbery. Even if people were interested in the word, not many people listen to smart-mouthed Jenna Roland. But that word stuck with Jeremy. He went home that night to Google it. That night, he discovered a whole new world.

Jeremy always felt … different from other girls. He never wanted to wear dresses or do his hair or wear makeup. Not that you can’t be a girl and not want to do those things. But for Jeremy, the issue went even deeper. He never really felt like a girl. He never had any friends that were girls, they more or less intimidated him. Jeremy saw the other girls as different beings. They had entirely different motives and train of thought, their obsessions and desires never clicked with him. Jeremy has never really understood girls, despite being one himself.

It took a lot of courage and lot of studying for Jeremy to determine that he’s transgender. He watched countless videos of transgender boys going through surgery to transform themselves into men. It was fascinating, the idea of actually being what he always felt he was: A boy. Although, his appearance alone would have anyone a little too far away guessing he’s a boy. Since Jeremy started high school, his hair has always been cut short, he always wears baggy clothes, and is nearly curveless. Jeremy always thanked God that he didn’t have what his father referred to as ‘child-bearing’ hips, it would just be another part of his body he didn’t feel like belonged.

Back to the present, we flash over to our young Jeremy. It’s been nearly a year since he’s felt this way, felt like he’s a boy inside. It’s been nearly a year since he’s started calling himself Jeremy and using male pronouns. It’s been nearly a year of anxiety and stress. It’s been nearly a year of binding his already somewhat small breasts. It’s been nearly a year of lying to Michael, his best friend on the planet.

He takes a deep breath and pushes the ball of yarn even further in his pocket. He’s standing outside Michael’s door. He knows his parents aren’t home and won’t be until the night. They don’t usually allow them to hang out together without the door being wide open. Jeremy guesses they’re afraid of them having sex or something else obscene. Jeremy breathes in again before pushing the small button to the left of the door. He can hear the doorbell chime in Michael’s house. It isn’t long until he best friend answers the door, smiling when he sees Jeremy.

“Hey! You could’ve just came in. I have the game all set up, dude,” Michael says.

Jeremy smiles back, happy to see him so eager to play. It might make the conversation easier on him. He thanks him and heads inside, shutting the door behind him. Michael’s already on the move to the basement to get ready to play. Jeremy follows slowly behind, stopping to look at the Mell’s many picture frames. Something Mrs. Mell swears isn’t an obsession, but everyone knows the woman has a mad love for photography, even if she isn’t all that good at it. Jeremy smiles as he passes his favorite: The picture Mrs. Mell took of Michael and Jeremy in the fourth grade on Sports Day. They entered the race together and hoped one would win. No one expected a girl to win the race. Jeremy took home the bright, blue ribbon he was awarded. It still sits on his shelf today.

“Hey, loser. If you don’t get your ass down here, I’m picking your character for you!” Michael yells from the basement.

Jeremy gulps down and quickly heads down the basement stairs, leaving the door open behind him. He’s greeted by Michael at the bottom, who gives him a controller. Michael’s already got a Twisler sticking out of his mouth and a bottle of Mountain Dew in his hands. Jeremy takes the controller and plops on the beanbag adjacent Michael’s. His best friend sits next to him, turning on the game and heading to the character select menu. Jeremy absent-mindedly picks a random character. Today isn’t about playing video games, it’s about being honest with Michael.

He lets the game distract him for a while, playing a good five or six rounds with Michael before pausing the game. Michael looks over at him, not too concerned but a little confused. Jeremy places the controller on the floor and leans into his beanbag. Now Michael’s concerned. He places his controller down as well and gets closer to his friend. Jeremy can sense his leg touching his. He looks at Michael, his eyes shrouded in worry. He contemplates telling him. Should he? What if Michael hates him? What if Michael doesn’t want understand? Jeremy takes a deep breath. The consequences weigh out the pros. Maybe this was bad idea, he goes to reach for the controller again. But Michael’s hand stops him.

“Are you alright? Alyssa?” Michael asks.

Jeremy cringes at his birth name. Michael’s blindness is only going to make this so much harder. He turns away, shrugging off Michael’s attempt at reconcile.

“Let’s just play, okay?”

Jeremy grabs the controller and grips it tight. He just wants to get through the game. This was dumb. Why was he so selfish? Thinking just because Michael’s his best friend he would somehow understand how he feels. He would never understand this pain. This dissociation with his own gender. It takes Jeremy a while to feel his tears seep down his face. One falls and the controller’s D-Pad catches it before it can fall to the floor.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong? Seriously,” Michael asks again.

His hand is firmly places around Jeremy’s, his larger hands covering the controller, too. Jeremy looks away. He knows he has to say it, but he never thought it would be this hard. He opens his mouth, but words are having a tough time forming. He looks hopelessly up at Michael. There’s so many things he needs to say, so much he knows he should explain. But all that comes out is a horse:

“Why was a born a girl?”

With that, Jeremy begins bawling. He goes to bring his hands up to cover his face, but before they can reach him, he’s wrapped in Michael’s arms. He covers his face in Michael’s hoodie, taking in his scent. He smells so good, so familiar. Michael keeps his arms around his tight. His tight grip and scent help calm Jeremy down. After a long silence, Michael begins to speak.

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re going through. But I … kinda get it,” Michael says.

Jeremy looks up at him. He can’t tell if Michael’s being honest or not. Not that Michael’s ever lied to him before. He waits for Michael to elaborate more on his understanding.

“You’ve always been … different, I guess. Not in a bad way, obviously, or else I wouldn’t be holding you like this,” Michael laughs.

Jeremy can’t say a word, he just stares at his best friend as he talks.

“But … I know you’ve never really enjoyed, well. Being a girl. I kinda figured this would happen one day. Not to sound weird, but I kinda noticed your boobs shrink one day and was kinda spooked. So I looked it up. If um, that stuff happened to girls or something when they got older. I dunno. I know it sounds dumb! But … I looked it up and saw all this stuff on binding. Which led me to transgender stuff which led me to – “

“Y-You … You thought my boobs shrunk? For just no apparent reason?” Jeremy asks.

They sit there in silence for a long while. Then, they burst into laughter. Two best friends laugh on a beanbag after one tells the other a shocking revelation about themselves. They’ll have to mend their ways and fix things between them. But this in no way affects their friendship. It might not be conventional, but it is beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope today's chapter is accurate and well-writen. I am not transgender myself but I do have many transgender friends, so my knowledge isn't exactly expert level. I hope that if you're transgender yourself that you'll give me some fedback on the chapter. One more day left of NaNoWriMo! :( If you haven't already, don't forget to comment your suggestions! And, for the last time: Until tomorrow, Sky.


	30. Day Thirty - Too Good at Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it: the last chapter. I hope it's everything you wanted and more.

I walk past Michael in the hall. I ignore him when he calls to me. I pretend I don’t see his Instagram and Twitters posts that go unnamed, but are about me. I let him rant and curse and cry over social media. But no matter how much I pretend to hate him, he never mentions my name online. He doesn’t talk about me behind my back. He’s never spread ridiculous rumors about me. Clearly, he cares about me. He’s the best thing to ever happen to me, yet I’m still letting him walk away.

At first, I counted the days. I kept a mental check of everyday that passed where I refused to talk to him. One they hit double digits, I stopped counting. I thought Michael would give up on me, but he’s so persistent. He texts me every single day. He vents through social media. He calls, I hit deny. He leaves sad, emotional, apologetic voicemails every day. I delete them from my voicemail box.

I try to pretend like Michael isn’t this amazing guy. I try to make up fights we had, pinning him as the bad guy in our relationship. I try to pretend like he’s an awful, abusive boyfriend I had to suffer through for almost a year. But it’s a fallacy in my head. Michael’s the perfect boyfriend. He’s funny, he’s smart, and he’s so damn nice. He loves me so much. He would do anything for me. He really is perfect.

My mediocracy doesn’t deserve Michael.

Throughout our relationship, I always felt like my feelings never matched Michael’s. He’s so strong and opens his heart to everyone, especially me. Every time he would try to get close to my heart, it would freeze like ice. I’ve run into this problem with everyone I’ve ever loved. But I thought maybe, just maybe, that Michael’s warm heart could thaw my frozen one.

But I was wrong again.

I know I have to end this properly. Michael doesn’t deserve this. But I can’t confront anything, let alone my boyfriend. Just another reason why I don’t deserve Michael. It’s a Tuesday today. And I know there’s a clock somewhere in my head that’s still keeping track of how long I’ve been ignoring Michael. I think it’s telling me fifteen days, I try to ignore it. I’m in school, like I should be. I know Michael’s been skipping a lot recently. I try to ignore the fact that I know I’m the reason why.

I came in late today, it’s already half way through first period. I try to just walk past the administrators at the front of the building, but they threaten to give me detention if I don’t sign in late at the office. I walk to the office doors, trying to ignore the stares I get from a few girls in the hallway. They probably know about me and Michael. Who doesn’t at this point? I’m sure Jenna Roland with her big mouth has already told the entire school about me being the world’s shittiest person and boyfriend.

I open the doors to the office and see the line of kids that are late. Over two dozen kids are piled in the office. I want to just fuck it and go back home, but I’ve already made the trek here. I don’t see any place to sit, so I stand like the good student I am with my back against the wall, waiting for my turn to sign in late. It takes another ten minutes for a place open in the line. I grab the pen and scribble my name in the blue ink on the sheet. I list ‘Overslept’ as my reasoning, but it’s all a lie of course.

Most people in the school think I’m some heartless monster who ignores his boyfriend for two weeks just because I like to watch him suffer or something. They’re wrong. I might be an asshole, but I do have a heart. A very frozen one, but it is still there. My real reason for not coming to school was when I woke up, I got another long ‘Good morning’ text from Michael. I read it. And cried like the pathetic bitch I am. I was tempted to delete it, but didn’t. It read:

_Good morning, baby. I really miss you. I don’t know what I did. I’m so sorry, whatever it is, can we just talk about it sometime after school today? I might not go again, I’ve been getting massive headaches. So, I’ll for you when you’re done, yeah? I really want to talk to you, I just want answers. It’s ok if we aren’t dating anymore, but please tell me why. What did I do? I just want to talk. Please, Jer. Xx Mikey_

I ignored Michael’s text, as always. Because I’m the problematic, selfish asshole everyone talks about now in the halls. I guess it’s just a characteristic of mine. I grab my pass and walk out of the office, not bothering to leave the door open for the kid who goes in after me. Because, again. I’m the asshole. I walk down the second hall, trying to remember if it was Physics or Algebra I had first period.

School goes on let this. Me, forgetting what classes I have and trying not to piss the entire student body off more than I already have. I’ve seen the social media posts, I’ve heard the shit kids are saying about me. I can’t go an hour without slightly overhearing a rude remark about me or seeing a lengthy Facebook post about how much of an asshole I am.

I’m such an asshole, I should just get it tattooed on my forehead. I mean, maybe that will warn anyone who has a slight affiliation with me that I’m not to be trusted with hearts. Because mines so frozen and cold, it might give your affectionate and warm one a cold burn. Finally, the end of the school day. I walk out of the building fast, hoping to not overhear another comment as I make my way through the parking lot.

Most kids my age drive. My dad, however is a paranoid pyscho who thinks a sixteen year old shouldn’t be trusted to drive. Michael drives. A really ugly PT Cruiser, actually. People made fun of his car when he first got it. They said it was a ‘girl’s car’ and that it’s as uncool as the Sahara Desert. My dad actually congratulated Michael on getting such a safe car. I begged him to let me get a car, even if it is an ugly PT Cruiser. But my dad’s an asshole. Maybe that’s where I get it from.

It takes me a bit to get home today, my body sore from never getting sleep. But I make it home in one piece. I head upstairs, ignoring my asshole dad who’s watching TV when I come in. I go to my room and lay on the bed. I check my phone for any new Facebook posts about me. It’s just another text from Michael:

_I’m outside your house. I’m sick of being ignored. Come outside if I still mean anything to you._

I jump out of bed and run to the window. Sure enough, Michael’s standing outside on the lawn. He looks pissed. At least it’s a change from looking depressed. I guess it’s now or never. I walk out of the house, purposely slamming the door. I walk over to Michael standing by the gate. He looks really different. Kind of older in a weird way. When he sees me, he looks away.

“I’m an asshole,” I say.

Michael shakes his head, still not looking me in the eyes. I fiddle with my pockets for a while, until Michael finally speaks.

“So are we done or what?”

“W-What? I … um. No … I mean,” I stammer.

Wow, I really am an asshole. I can’t even give my possibly soon to be ex-boyfriend an answer. He rolls his eyes, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Can you just talk to me? At least tell me what I did wrong.”

“You never did anything wrong, Michael. And I mean … I don’t want to …”

“Don’t want to what, Jeremy!? Don’t want to breakup with me? Because if that’s the fucking case, then why haven’t you talked to me in two weeks? Why do you go out of your way to avoid me if we’re still dating?” Michael presses.

I try to reel it all back. How can I say anything without him getting angry? I try to form the correct words.

“I … Because you don’t deserve me.”

“Oh, so you thought ignoring me was a good way to end things?”

Michael’s hands are in the air. He looks downright livid. I wish he’d hit me so I’d have a valid reason for being a dick. But he won’t because he cares. He cares so fucking much.

“I don’t know how to … Say it? I’m just not as nice as you and I always feel like you’re hundreds steps above me. I’m an asshole, like I said. And you’re so perfect. You have every reason to hate me!” I say.

I see Michael look away, his hands come down to his side. His hands curl into fists. This has to be the time he’s going to hit me. I totally deserve it. I wouldn’t even mind if he did at this point. But instead, I hear an unfamiliar sob.

“You think I …? That I hate you? Why would I? I wouldn’t come here if I hated you, Jer. I – Fuck! I _love_  you, b-baby. I fucking can’t eat, sleep, or breathe without you. I haven’t gone to school because I can’t look at you without just wanting to _die_  because I thought all this time that you _hated_ me. I-I just - !”

I can’t breathe. I can’t think or see straight. I try to gasp for air, I try to look for words to say. Michael just said he _loves_  me. Present tense. Everything I’ve been holding back releases by itself like wildfire. I openly sob. I can’t even bring my hands up to my face because I’m crying so hard. My body shakes, my vision blurs over with tears. I feel like I’m floating, drifting out in space while my tears trail behind me.

“I-I don’t hate you, M-Micha. I-I,” I can’t even finish my sentence.

More and more sobs take control of me as I wail. I’m shaking so hard, every word I try to say is accented and heightened with emotion. The world seems to slip away until Michael’s holding me. I blink my eyes and see his red hoodie blocking my vision. I also can feel the cold ground, dead and leaves and grass are beneath me. I must have fell during my episode. Despite feeling better with Michael’s arms around me, I’m still crying.

“Don’t cry. Please, Jer. I hate seeing you like this, I …”

Even Michael is at a loss for words. We both sit there for what feels like hours. And it honestly could be for all I know. All I know is that as long as I can still smell Michael, I’ll be okay.

“P-Please don’t ever say goodbye to me,” Michael pleads into my shoulder.

I still can’t find my words, so I just nod. I know he gets the message because he squeezes me tighter than before. And I slowly feel my frozen heart begin to melt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been such a wonderful ride. I am so, so happy you guys enjoyed my work. I can't believe I even finished it. If it weren't for the support, I would've never gotten through NaNoWriMo. But I did, and it's all thanks to you guys. NaNoWriMo inspired many things for me. Like new works I'll be posting in the future, better writing, and even a new friendship. I'm almost crying while writing this, but please know that I'm not going anywhere soon. I have lots of new content planned and I know you guys are gonna love it. I hope your November went great, because mine sure did. 
> 
> Until another day, Sky. <3


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